The Price of Freedom
by Marla Fair
Summary: A WHN for Season Four's episode 'Freedom Flight'. When Charles Ingalls and Doctor Baker took a stand against Hugh MacGregor's bigotry and hatred of the Indians, they knew there would be consequences, but neither could imagine just how high the price of Little Crow and his people's freedom would be.
1. Chapter 1

The Price of Freedom

A WHN for Season Four's episode 'Freedom Flight'

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When Charles Ingalls and Doctor Baker took a stand against Hugh MacGregor's bigotry and hatred of the Indians, they knew there would be consequences, but neither could imagine just how high the price of Little Crow and his people's freedom would be.

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"Charles. What are you thinking?"

The handsome man with the curly brown hair turned and looked past the fire to his companion. He'd known Doctor Hiram Baker for four years now and you couldn't find a better man. Along with several others, the physician had welcomed him and his family to Walnut Grove when they first arrived. Their acquaintance had turned professional when he'd foolishly climbed a tree to retrieve a kite and fallen some twenty feet to the ground, breaking several ribs. Hiram had bound his ribs and chided him, remarking how it never ceased to amaze him how many ways a man could find to hurt himself.

Charles gaze strayed to the east.

Or to hurt others.

"Charles?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I was thinking about Hugh MacGregor."

The blond man blew out a sigh. "Whatever for?"

"It's somethin' Half-pint asked me, that first time when Spotted Wolf was so unkind to her."

Hiram shook his head. "That boy's an angry one. There's trouble there."

He nodded. "Yes, he is. He was very deliberate in letting Laura known a white man had killed her mother. It...it nearly tore her apart."

"She's a sensitive girl," the doctor said as he reached for the pot of coffee they had on the fire.

They'd remained behind to make certain the pyre upon which Long Elk's body had been placed burned itself out. Since night had fallen before it did, they'd made camp and intended to spend the night by the river before heading home in the ramshackle wagon he had traded his own for that morning.

Hiram poured his coffee, sipped it, and then asked, "So what did Laura want to know?"

Charles rose and turned toward the water. The moonlight glinted off its gently rolling swells. The air was crisp with a taste of September and a hint of October, and the night was full of soft sounds and welcome scents. He thought for a moment of the Santee Sioux, Little Crow, and his people leaving all of this behind and heading for Canada. He hoped they found what they were seeking there.

With his hands in his pockets, Charles turned back. "She was askin' about Hugh MacGregor and wonderin' how a man could hate so much."

The doctor rose and came to join him. "What do you know of the Dakota War, Charles?"

He shrugged. "Some. I know there were wrongs committed on both sides."

Hiram nodded. "Killing, murder, outrages of all kinds. Started with Dakota Indian men who couldn't feed their children – like Little Crow – and ended in the massacre of hundreds of settlers." The blond man eyed him. "MacGregor lost two sons and a daughter, all older than the one he has left. All killed by Indians." The doctor's blue eyes narrowed with remembered pain. "The girl – I think her name was Maggie – was raped and tossed aside." He took another sip. "Little Crow was in charge at the second battle of New Ulm. Did you know that?"

Charles knew little of New Ulm, other than it was one of the major battles of the Dakota war. The Indians set fire to the buildings in the town seeking to make its defenders run in panic. The settlers held their ground. The Dakota eventually retreated. A third of the town was left in ruin.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't know that," he admitted quietly.

"Little Crow was young and angry then, like his son."

Charles thought back to their midnight ride to save Little Crow and his children – the ride that had brought them to this plain where the rest of the tribe waited, and forced them to choose sides.

Both he and the doctor had chosen to stand with the Indians against the men of their town.

"Do you think MacGregor knew? About Little Crow, I mean."

Hiram shook his head. "No. I don't think so. If he had, there would have been no stopping him. I'm not saying Little Crow had anything to do with Hugh's children's deaths, just that he was the one giving orders." The doctor returned to his seat by the fire. "I don't say MacGregor's hate is right – in fact, I say quite the opposite – but there are reasons for it, Charles. Reasons, if not excuses."

It seemed inconceivable. _Three_ children dead. Sons murdered. A girl – a girl like Mary, Laura, or Carrie – used, _defiled,_ and then thrown away as if she were a piece of refuse. He'd been so hell-bent on saving the natives because he _knew_ MacGregor's hate was so unreasonable – so _wrong._

Tears entered his eyes. It was still wrong. But, it appeared, there _was_ a good reason.

"Don't feel badly, Charles," the doctor said, leaning back and lowering his hat over his eyes. "I knew about MacGregor's loss and I still think the man's a coward and an ass."

Charles' expressive eyebrows danced with amusement. "An ass, eh?"

"Don't you know we doctors go East to study just to increase our vocabulary?" Hiram laughed but sobered quickly. "Hugh had no idea who Little Crow was and he was _still_ willing to gun down a group of natives who had done nothing to him, women and children included." The doctor yawned. "Just because someone suffers a loss doesn't mean the reason they hate is exclusively related _to_ that loss. Hugh MacGregor is a bigot, but worse than that, he's an alarmist and a man without a conscience." The blond man lifted his hat with one finger and looked at him. "You made a fool out of him, Charles, more than once. He's not going to forget that – _or_ forgive. At least not any time soon."

Charles shrugged as he sat on the ground and took hold of the blanket he had chosen to bed down under. "He's one man. Out of all of Walnut Grove there were only ten followed him and half of them deserted before the end." He scooted down toward the ground and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "MacGregor _is_ a coward. When it came down to it and he had no one to back up his hate, he turned tail and ran." Charles arranged his hat over his eyes. "No, I don't think we have anything to worry about from Hugh MacGregor."

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Hiram Baker shifted, seeking a comfortable spot to lie on. No matter what bit of earth he tried, it seemed the good Lord had chosen just that place to raise a rock out of it. The latest one had been pressing into his hip and had become so uncomfortable, it had awakened him out of the light sleep he'd finally managed to fall into. Now that he was awake, he felt the need to relieve himself.

Tomorrow was going to be a _long_ day.

Since he'd been looking after the Sioux chief, Long Elk, he'd had little time to attend to his other patients and he would have to see to them as soon as he reached town. Mrs. Clary's bursitis was acting up. Harriet Oleson had insisted the last time he saw her that she was coming down with something. Hiram snorted. He was hoping it was laryngitis.

So was her husband, Nels.

Several other residents had colds and there was one child with the croup. There were a couple of injuries and one budding case of measles. Nothing fatal, thank goodness, just dozens of natural things to which the body was prone that meant little or nothing unless left untended.

Yes, it was high time he got home.

Hiram looked at the star-studded sky. They'd determined they would leave at first light, which he estimated to be about three hours away. His patients, he knew, would be no more anxious to see him than Caroline and the girls would be to see their father. Once they knew that MacGregor had discovered the Indians on Charles' property, he and his friend had taken the wagon and Little Crow and his family away in the middle of the night, flying like the wind. Caroline would have been without word of Charles for nearly two days. She was probably worried sick.

" _Another_ patient," he breathed as he tossed his blanket aside and climbed to his feet.

Since there wasn't a tree within miles, the blond man went to the far side of the wagon where a modicum of privacy could be found. Once done, he buttoned his trousers and then leaned a hand on the wagon's side and looked up. The moon had retreated and lay behind a low bank of clouds. The air was chilly and the stars danced in the folds of the sky's black skirts. The night was hushed. Still. Silent.

 _Almost._

The sound of a horse blowing air out of its nostrils alerted him to the fact that they were not alone.

Just not in time.

As he started back to where Charles lay, a figure blocked his path. It was a big man. Stocky. With narrowed eyes shining in a shadowed face.

Hugh MacGregor.

He heard a click. The coward had a gun trained on him.

"You just stay right where you are, Doc, and you won't get hurt," the Scot said, his voice pitched low.

Hiram's eyes flicked to where Charles lay. There were other shadows there, moving in tandem around the sleeping man. As he watched they bent down. He heard Charles exclaim and then cry out, first in surprise and then in pain as one of them struck him.

"MacGregor, no!" Hiram shouted. "Don't be a fool!"

He couldn't see the Scot's face. He didn't need to. His words were ugly enough.

"Ain't one man in Walnut Grove won't back me up," the coward snarled. "They got no more use for an Injun lover than I do."

The doctor could hear fists hitting flesh. From the sound of it, Charles was giving as good as he got. One of the men who attacked him flew back suddenly, almost striking MacGregor in the legs.

"You get back in there!" the beefy man screamed. "You teach that Injun lover a lesson he ain't _ever_ gonna forget!"

"He's awful strong," the other man said as he wiped blood from his lip and climbed to his feet.

The next words were the ones Hiram had feared he would hear.

"Then do whatever it takes."

"Hugh, listen to me!" he said, reaching out and catching the other man's shirt in his fingers. "Be reasonable! Is your hate worth ruining your life? Your wife and child's? If you...hurt Charles, you'll only be hurting yourself. You'll go to jail!"

The moon had broken free moments before. Its argent light struck Hugh MacGregor's jowled face and glinted in his cold dark eyes. "The judge at Mankato hanged them thirty-eight Injuns. Would have hung them _all_ if Abe Lincoln hadn't gone white and let them go. That judge lost family to the war too." The Scot sneered. "You think a man like that's gonna hang _me_ for killin' me an Injun lover?"

Hiram had opened his mouth to speak. It was at that moment he saw Charles fall. There was a flash of something shiny in the air, a startled gasp...

And then silence.

MacGregor gestured and another man came and took his place. He was holding a gun too and wore a mask over the lower half of his face, so only his eyes showed. The blue orbs were angry, but they were also scared. Apparently, he was not as sure of that judge in Mankato as Hugh was. Hiram watched the Scot cross to where Charles had fallen and crouch down. He made a scoffing noise and then rose and returned to his side.

Hiram's eyes were wide. "Is he..."

Hugh MacGregor met his gaze.

"Let's just say this, Doc. Mister Ingalls is in need of your services." The Scot nodded to the man who held the gun on him. "Let him go," he ordered. When the man hesitated, MacGregor stepped over and put his hand on the gun and lowered its point toward the ground. "Go ahead, Doc, for all the good it will do you _or_ him."

He was at Charles' side in seconds. The brown-haired man was curled up on the ground as though he had fallen while trying to protect himself, with one hand over his head and the other beneath him. He was breathing hard. The doctor's skilled hands flew over his friend, seeking to find what it was that had taken him down. He had, of course, been badly beaten, but Hiram couldn't get that flash of something glinting in the moonlight out of his head. It wasn't until his hands reached the other man's hair that he found it.

Blood. A lot of blood.

Apparently the man had used his pistol to crack his skull.

MacGregor spoke from directly behind him, startling him.

"When... _if_ Mister Ingalls wakes up, Doc, you tell him this from me. I am gonna make his life a living hell. _Hell_ , I'm gonna make him wish he _had_ died." MacGregor laughed at his own cruel joke. "And there ain't nothin' on this earth, above it or below it gonna stop me. He told me them Injuns had had so much done to them they weren't afraid to die.

"He'll soon know how that feels."

Hiram looked up. "Why? What purpose does this serve?" He rose to his feet and faced the other man. "Your children are _dead,_ Hugh." He thrust an arm out, pointing at Charles. "This kind of brutality won't bring them back. What about _Charles'_ wife and children?"

Hugh's mouth was a straight line. "That uppity woman of his ain't no better. They're _all_ Injun lovers and they deserve what they get."

"Good God, man! What are you thinking?"

Hugh MacGregor stood before him, judge, jury, and executioner all wrapped up in one revolting package. He was flanked by the other two men who had come with him. The moonlight shone on the Scot's face, which was carved out of stone – hard, callous, cruel.

Pitiless.

"I ain't forgot which side you chose, Doc," he breathed, his tone full of menace. "Since you're a doctor, I figured you believe you gotta help anyone. But I tell you this, if you get in my way, I _will_ take you down. Won't be one person in Walnut Grove come to you for your services. In fact," a slow sneer spread across the bully's lips, lifting one corner in a twisted smile, "you just might not be able to provide those services anymore."

"Are you threatening me?" Hiram demanded, breathless.

He saw it coming, but not soon enough. MacGregor's fist took him in the chin and drove him to the ground. As the blond man lay there, his head reeling, he heard the bastard say.

"It's not a threat, Doc. It's the God's honest truth."

And then everything went black.

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"Ma?" Laura asked. "How come people are looking at us funny?"

Caroline turned to see what it was her middle child saw. They had walked to Walnut Grove early in the morning to see if Doctor Baker or Charles had returned. Finding the doctor's practice closed and dark they'd headed for the mill and were waiting on Lars Hanson to arrive. As they did, several townspeople had passed them by without speaking a word to them or looking their way. However, upon their arrival at the Oleson's mercantile their 'neighbors' had started talking plenty. The women were on the porch, chatting with Harriet, and it was obvious they were talking _about_ them.

She could just imagine what they were saying.

One thing among many that she loved her husband for was for his high sense of justice and steely determination to see right done no matter _what_ the consequences. She was in complete agreement with his stand to protect Little Crow and his family from the bigotry and hatred of Hugh MacGregor. She was also, if she had to admit it, terrified. The Scot had made clear what kind of a man he was when – after she refused to give him any information regarding which direction Charles and Doctor Baker had taken – he'd said, ' _I can make you tell me if I have to._ '

The battle between the settlers in this area and the Indians was generations old, with a good deal of poor choices and loss on both sides. It was her belief – and Charles' as well – that a man was a man and he was good or bad, and should be judged by his actions and not by the color of his skin or his race.

Unfortunately, the fine citizens gossiping on the Oleson's porch believed no such thing. To them the only good Indian _was_ a dead Indian. She could see it in their eyes. MacGregor had made it clear that the Ingalls' were Indian lovers and would protect the red man over their own – their _own_ being those with white skin.

"Ma?"

Caroline started. "I'm sorry, Laura. Just ignore them. 'Ignorance is the curse of God' as William Shakespeare put it."

"Ma," Mary said, "Mister Hanson's coming."

Caroline looked up to find Lars Hanson walking down the street toward the mill. Johnathan Garvey was at his side. The pair brought a smile to her face. Lars was shorter than Charles, and Johnathan, well, he was one of the tallest men she had seen at well over six feet.

"Caroline," Johnathan said, his face as usual giving no hint of his thoughts.

Lars rushed past him. "Caroline, do you _haf_ any _vord_ of Charles?"

Her heart sank. "I came here to ask you the same thing," she said with a sigh. "Doctor Baker's office is closed and there's no light within."

"No one has seen anything of either of them," Johnathan said. "We've asked around."

She could feel Mary and Laura's eyes on her. Carrie, thank goodness, was young enough to be oblivious to what the men's words might imply. "I'm sure they're all right," she said for her girls' sake. "Still, I wish there was some way I could go after them."

"It is too dangerous, Caroline," Lars said. "You best let us do that. _Ve vere_ _joost_ talking. _Ve_ are going to take a group of men and go after them."

"I've got Nels. He's talking to a couple of others," Johnathan said. "I'm going to knock on doors and see if we can find anyone else on our way out of town who will join us."

"Nels is going?" Caroline's eyes went to the mercantile. Harriet was still on the porch. Her mouth was running away with her as usual.

Lars looked that direction. " _Ja._ Nels is a good man. He is very fond of Charles."

She nodded. How Nels stayed married to that witch of a woman she had no idea. Charles had told her what the busybody said about the Indians, about how they abducted people and should have stayed on their reservation because they had plenty of land and food.

She'd like to see her say that if Nellie or Willie were starving.

"Caroline?"

She looked at Lars. "I know. Charles and I both value Nels' friendship. I was just thinking about Harriet."

" _Vy ever vould_ you do a thing like that?" Lars asked, a hint of irony in his tone.

She giggled. "I have _no_ idea."

"Ma?" It was Laura again. As she turned, her middle daughter asked, "Are they gonna go look for Pa?"

Johnathan nodded. "Yes."

"Can I go with you?"

Before Caroline could say 'no', Johnathan answered, "I'd love for you to, Laura, but we have to ride fast and hard and its only gonna be men. It wouldn't be proper for you to go with us."

Laura might have argued that first point, but she couldn't the second.

"I wish I was a boy," she muttered, looking at her feet.

The big man pretended he had not heard her. Johnathan's eye rolled over toward the mercantile. "There's Nels. We better get going."

Caroline looked. Harriet's form was stiff as a board. She had her mouth open but nothing was coming out. Apparently Nels had laid down the law and left her sputtering.

A minute later he was at their side. "I packed supplies, everything we should need in case..." He paused. "In case Charles and Hiram have been parted from their wagon and supplies."

She knew what he had intended to say – ' _in case someone is hurt._ '

In case Hugh MacGregor had 'made' Charles or Doctor Baker tell him what he wanted to know.

"You should take the girls and go home, Caroline," Lars said. "Stay there until Charles is back and..."

She looked from Lars to Johnathan.

The big man held her gaze.

"Lock the doors."

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Nels Oleson occupied the wagon seat next to Johnathan Garvey, who was driving the rig. Lars rode in the back with the supplies. They'd picked up a few other men on the western side of town and were headed out the way Charles and Doctor Baker had taken with the Sioux Indians. Harriet was not happy that he had volunteered to go after the two men. She was on her high horse about 'savages' committing murder and rape and every other crime on the face of the earth short of bringing about the Apocalypse. He was an even-tempered man. Yes, there were bad Indians, but there were good men among them too. Just like there were good men and bad men among the whites in Walnut Grove.

Good men, like the ones who rode beside him.

The Dakota War was a sore point with many in the area, spilling as it did into Minnesota and effecting many of the townspeople's lives. There were atrocities committed by the Indians, but then the white men could be just as savage and cruel. He had nothing against Indians and thought the removal act that came after the war a bit harsh. After all, the Indians had been good customers for the merchants who had been in the area before he arrived.

He did however, for the most part, keep his opinions to himself.

Nels sighed and shifted in his seat, adjusting so he was more comfortable. They were moving at a good clip, driven by a shared sense that something was wrong and they needed to find the Doctor and Charles Ingalls as quickly as they could. Charles was an upstanding man. He held deep beliefs and had no trouble expressing them. The problem was, that drew trouble to him and his family like flies to cherry pie. The world was not necessarily kind to a man of principle. One day a man like that would be lauded for it, and the next, condemned. He'd seen it often enough in his life, and _especially_ during the Dakota war. Good honest, hard-working men could be whipped into a frenzy when they feared for their lives and the lives of their loved ones, and men like Hugh MacGregor knew just how to play into those fears.

He'd heard the rumors his own wife was listening to and which he'd forbidden her to spread. 'Indian lover', that's what they called Charles, casting aspersions on his character and hinting about the reasons for his attachment to the Indians. Some had even gone so far as to say he must have fathered that little girl who had been with Little Crow.

After all, why was she holding his child's doll?

Nels' reverie was interrupted when the wagon drew to a sudden halt. He looked at Johnathan whose face was a hard-edged line.

"Company."

Nels looked. There were two riders and a wagon approaching.

Hugh MacGregor was one of them.

"Mornin', Hugh," Johnathan said. "What brings you out this way?"

"We're comin' back from Volga. Had some buying and selling to do there," the Scot replied curtly, and then added, "if it's any of your business."

"Just bein' friendly," the man with light brown hair replied. "After all, that's what neighbors are for. Isn't it?" Johnathan tipped his hat. "Tom, Simon," he said, deliberately naming the other men.

"Surprised to see you away from your store, Nels," MacGregor said, looking directly at him. "What brings you out on such a fine day for the trade?"

He glanced at Johnathan, wondering if he should admit what they were up to.

" _Ve_ are looking for Doctor Baker and Charles," Lars replied, taking matters out of their hands. " _Haf_ you seen them? They _vere_ traveling _vest_."

MacGregor made a big show of consulting the other two men. "No," he replied. "Can't say as we have."

"Can't? Or _von't_?" Lars prodded.

The Scot bristled. "You accusing me of something, Hanson?"

Before the older man could speak again, Johnathan reached around and touched his arm. Johnathan shook his head. Then he looked back. "We're not accusing you of anything, MacGregor." He paused. "At least not yet."

The Scot's piggy eyes narrowed in his meaty face. "If I was you, Garvey, I'd take care choosing which side to be on. You know what the good Reverend Alden always says." He pressed his heels into his mount's side and urged it to move. "There's consequences for a man's actions."

Before any of them could reply MacGregor and the two men who were with him moved off, headed in the direction of Walnut Grove.

After watching them go, Nels looked from one man to the other.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

He'd hoped when the sun came up to reveal the damage MacGregor and his bullies had done to Charles that it would be less than he expected.

Unfortunately, it was more.

The beating the brave man had taken at the hands of the Gallender brothers the year before had been bad enough. George Gallender had been a coward as well and had taken a thick branch to his side, breaking Charles' ribs. This time, the hardest blow had been to the side of his head and it had been done with a the butt of a pistol, breaking the skin and causing a good deal of blood loss as well as raising a sizeable knot. Hiram lifted a hand to his own jaw. It was bruising and hurt like the Devil, but it was nothing compared to what Charles had endured. And though many in Walnut Grove would joke about the man's hard head, it seemed Charles _and_ his head had finally met their match.

So far he had been insensible.

Hiram wrung the cloth out again that he had used to clean some of the blood away. He'd gone to the river several times and returned. When MacGregor and his cohorts departed – after knocking both of them out – they had taken the wagon Charles had received in trade for his own and left them alone and without provision. His medical bag had been in the wagon, so that had been lost as well. He'd found some plants and made a mash of them and applied it to the cut on Charles' head and then bound it with strips from the tail of his shirt, but it wasn't much more than a stop-gap measure. The stubborn cuss had a concussion at the very least.

He didn't want to think what he might have at _worst._

After laying the cloth on Charles' forehead, the doctor rose to his feet and looked to the west. At least Little Crow and his people had escaped MacGregor's unreasonable wrath. They were probably close to Canada by now where they would be safe from both hate-filled men like him _and_ the law. When he closed his eyes he could see the women and children of the tribe looking on them with suspicion, not really believing two white men would face down their own to see justice done to the Indian. Little Crow knew the risk they had taken.

He would never know the consequences.

As he stood there, he heard a slight moan. Turning, Hiram saw that Charles' eyes were open and the injured man was trying to rise.

"Whoa! Whoa, there," he said, quickly crossing to him and pressing his shoulders back to the ground. "You just lie still until I can take a better look at you."

One side of Charles' face was bruised and swollen and his lip was split. He had some concern for the eye on the left hand side, but that would wait until he was able to assess what the pistol-whipping had done.

Crouching beside him, he held up two fingers. "How many?" he asked.

Charles blinked.

"Charles, how many fingers am I holding up?"

The injured man squinted. "Looks like...twenty to me," he breathed and then added a second later with a weak smile, "but I think it's two."

"I don't know how Caroline puts up with you," Hiram snorted. "I'm going to turn your head. Sorry beforehand. It's going to hurt."

The gasp he got in response to the action proved him entirely right. "Now, look at me."

"I..am...looking at...you," the other man growled.

"No. Directly at me." He placed his finger between his eyes. "Here."

Charles winced as he did what he demanded. "The light...hurts."

Hiram kept his opinion about that to himself. Unfortunately, one of Charles' pupils was more distended than the other, which was _not_ a good sign. It could be indicative of a severe concussion. He'd have to watch him closely for a few days.

Charles was frowning. "Where's...the wagon?"

Hiram rose to his feet. "MacGregor took it."

Again, that weak smile. "That was right...neighborly...of him."

Hiram snorted. "Not." Looking down at the injured man, he asked, "Do you think you can stand?"

Charles seemed to steel himself. "I can...try."

"All right" He held out his hand. "We do this slowly."

Charles' hand shook when he took his. He seemed to gather his strength at his touch and then slowly rose to his feet. Once on them he wobbled and nearly went back down, catching himself at the last moment. The smile reappeared, paler this time.

"You got a prescription, Doc, to make the world stop spinning?"

Hiram pursed his lips. Under normal circumstances he would have kept Charles immobile, but getting him help was just as important as making him rest.

Maybe more.

"Yes. Stop getting into fights."

The other man seemed a little taken aback. "It's MacGregor you oughta be mad at, Hiram."

"I am. And I respect you, Charles, as a man who speaks your mind and who won't suffer injustice. Maybe," his tone softened, "maybe if you would do it with a little less zest..."

Charles snorted and then, for a second, his eyes seemed to go blank. Almost before he could say it had definitely happened, the brown-haired man turned away and looked to the east.

"I guess we start walking," he sighed.

Hiram nodded. "I'm afraid MacGregor took everything, canteens included. We've no water or food." He glanced up at the September sun that was shining down on the land. "It's going to be a _long_ walk no matter how you look at it."

"Doc, to tell the truth," the brown-haired man said, "I'm trying not to."

Hiram Baker looked at his friend. Charles was pale, he had blood caked in his hair and on his forehead, and his face looked like he'd been in a prize fight – and lost. In spite of all of that he was determined and ready and willing to begin a journey he could in no way complete.

The blond man hesitated and then said, "There's a rumor among the townspeople that Charles Ingalls has a hard time accepting help." He held out his arm, indicating Charles should move into the circle of it and lean on him for support. "How about we prove them wrong?"

Charles met his gaze and then, without a word, accepted his offer.

Which told him how really bad off he was.

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They'd traveled the better part of the day and now, toward evening, had called a halt to their journey and made camp on the plains. Nels wasn't really all that used to camping, but he found being in the company of other men – and away from the mercantile and Harriet – rewarding. There was something clean and pure about the wide open prairie. It was what called to most men who settled in the west, and what was lost when other men like him followed them to build cities. For the sake of his family Charles Ingalls had put down roots in Walnut Grove, but he could tell he was one of those men. Charles was never more alive than when he was out in the woods or standing on a wide open plain. A love of the unpeopled West was what had taken him from Pepin, Wisconsin to Kansas, and then back to Pepin before coming to Walnut Grove. The needs of a family without enough food had driven him as well, but there was in him a love of the land and the trees and the animals that wandered them. In a way, Charles was _like_ the land – primal, deeply rooted; solid as the rocks that made up the mountains and had been there since the beginning of time. It was what made him so sure of himself. What gave him courage and strength.

What made him go up against men like the Galender brothers and, now, Hugh MacGregor.

He wasn't sure which was the more dangerous of the two.

"The beans are ready, Nels," Johnathan said as he passed him on the way to the stream that ran at their backs. The late afternoon sun was glinting on its surface, turning the narrow band of water to a golden ribbon that cut through the prairie grass. "Lars has made some coffee to wash them down with."

He nodded. Harriet would have a fit. They had some fresh coffee in, just off the train, and he had taken almost half of it with them. She'd intended to package it in small amounts and over-price it, saying it was some special bean from a far off land. Sometimes he wondered about that woman. When he questioned her about it, she had said it was the truth – New York _was_ a far-off land when you lived in Walnut Grove.

Wasn't everywhere?

Lars heard his sigh. It had been _that_ loud.

"Penny for your thoughts, Nels," he said softly.

"Save your penny for candy, Lars," he replied as he accepted a pan of beans. "They're not worth it."

"Oh?"

"Nothing new," he answered with a weary smile. "A penny's too much for used merchandise."

"Harriet?" Johnathan asked as he settled in.

Nels laughed. "Who else?"

The big man shook his head. "Women. Who can figure them?"

Nels knew Alice and Johnathan had faced divorce not too long before after arguing about her taking a job. He and Harriet had come to that too – until he realized that, in spite of everything, he couldn't live without her.

"I think Charles has," Lars said quietly. "I have never seen a man and woman work together like him and Caroline."

"That, or Caroline understands men!" Johnathan snorted.

" _Ja_ ," Lars agreed with a smile. "That is possible too."

Nels couldn't help but smile too. "She's certainly as outspoken as Charles," he said with a shake of his head. "If I can help it, I never miss one of her visits to the store. You should see Harriet's face when she finds she can't bamboozle her!"

Lars was nodding. " _Valnut_ Grove is a better place for the Ingalls having come to town." He looked up, concern in his light blue eyes. "I had hoped _ve vould_ find Charles and the doctor today. After running into Hugh MacGregor, I am afraid something bad has – "

A hand on his shoulder called him to silence. Johnathan dropped his plate and rose to his feet. Nels turned and followed his gaze. At first he saw nothing. Then, in the distance, he noted a small black spot on the horizon. It only took a moment for it to materialize into two men walking.

One was practically dragging the other.

It was Lars who said it first.

"Good Lord..."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hiram was nearly spent. Fifteen minutes back he had almost given up. It was then he had seen the fire. He had no idea whose it was. For all he knew, it could have been MacGregor and his men. At this point he didn't care. They needed water and food and he was just about willing to do whatever it took to get them. At first Charles had walked mostly on his own, leaning on him only for balance. A few hours back his pace had slowed and the injured man had begun to moan with each step. Now, he was practically carrying him. Charles was weak and had decreased coordination. His speech was slurred and at one point he had begun to heave. There was, of course, nothing in his stomach to come up, but the waves of sickness had weakened him even further. Hiram sighed. He knew the signs. In rare cases, along with the concussion, a blood clot could form and press the brain against the skull. It would require surgery to correct that and to relieve the pressure. He prayed to God it wasn't the case, but it was imperative he get Charles somewhere clean and quiet and dark where he could let him rest and evaluate his condition.

Dragging him across endless fields of prairie grass was _not_ the ideal condition for healing. Exhausted but determined, the doctor lifted his head and fixed his eyes on the flickering fire.

It was at that point he saw three men running toward them.

At first all Hiram felt was relief, but then that relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he began to shake. It was all he could do to remain on his feet until the men reached their side. The blond man watched as their looks went from ones of excitement and joy to concern as their eyes sought and found Charles.

He was barely hanging on to consciousness.

Johnathan glanced at Lars and handed him his rifle. Then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around the injured man and lifted him up.

"I'll get Charles to the wagon." Johnathan's green eyes locked on his. "You okay, Doc?"

Hiram managed a weak smile as he touched his bruised jaw. "I've been better, but don't worry about me. It's Charles needs taken care of."

As Johnathan moved away, Lars asked, "MacGregor?"

He nodded. "And two of his goons. They accosted us and took our wagon. One was named Tom. The other was Simon. Mallory and Canton, I think." Hiram met Lars' concerned gaze. "They wore masks."

The older man seemed to bristle. "Charles _vas_ right to call them cowards!"

"You sure you don't need some aid, Hiram?" Nels was looking him over skeptically.

"Nothing wrong with me that a meal and a good night's rest won't cure." He swayed a bit on his feet. "And a meal. You wouldn't happen to have any food on you, would you?"

" _Ve vere joost_ sitting down to supper," Lars said.

The doctor looked toward the camp. Johnathan was standing alone by the wagon now, so Charles must be in it. "We really need to get to town without delay."

"You can eat while we break camp," Nels said, adding as he too looked to the wagon, "Is it so bad?"

Hiram shook his head. "I honestly don't know. Charles took a hard blow to that hard head of his. He may have a simple concussion, but the potential is there for something more serious to develop." He looked from one man to the other. "And that's not all. There's something I feel I should tell you two."

" _Vhat_ is that?" Lars asked.

"McGregor had Charles beaten. I think he hoped he _would_ die." He shook his head. "But if he didn't, Hugh promised to make Charles' life _hell._ He had no compassion for Caroline or the girls either." At their astonished look, he added, "You weren't there. Hugh went to the military. The army came out to eradicate Little Crow's tribe. They brought a Gatling gun. For the women and children."

"Good God!" Nels remarked.

"The Ingalls are going to need protection, and you know Charles, once he's on his feet he will think he can handle things on his own. We have to make him see that this effects the whole town. And it does. If we let Hugh MacGregor get by with this kind of behavior, no one will be safe." The doctor paused. "A town without a respect for life is doomed to fail." They had arrived at the camp. He glanced at the fire longingly and then, at the wagon where Charles lay. "I should go see to my patient."

"I'll bring some coffee and beans to the wagon, Hiram," the store-keeper said. "Will Charles eat anything?"

He shook his head. "Not now. I don't think he could keep it down. Let's get him to my office and once I know he's out of danger, we can worry about that."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You're worried about Charles, aren't you?" Alice Garvey asked. They were sitting in the church at a meeting of the Ladies Christian Society that was focused on planning the upcoming harvest social.

Caroline forced a smile. "I'm sure he's fine. He and Doctor Baker probably decided to travel with Little Crow's people for a while. I imagine Long Elk needed tending. He was very sick when they were forced to move him."

"Do you think Hugh MacGregor would actually have harmed them? I mean, the boy and little girl too?"

From what she had seen Hugh MacGregor would have stepped over or on _anyone_ in his way to do just that. "I don't think age or sex matter to that man when it comes to Indians. He's so full of hate, he's blind to anything other than his own prejudice."

"Did he threaten you?"

Caroline hesitated. She was unsure of what to say. If Charles found out what the Scotsman had threatened, it would be the Galenders all over again. She drew a breath to answer but was stopped by the unnatural silence that had descended on the room. Looking up Caroline found Harriet Oleson staring at her, hands anchored on hips.

"Are we boring you, Mrs. Ingalls?" she sniped.

"Oh, no. I'm sorry." She wasn't really, but it was church and it _was_ the right thing to say.

"Perhaps you would like to share with us whatever is so important it overrides our need to discuss the schedule for the harvest celebration?"

She said it like a maiden school teacher.

Sometimes she just wanted to wipe that self-satisfied look off of the dark-haired woman's face.

"I asked her about Charles," Alice said, meaning to help, but only digging her in deeper.

"Oh?" Harriet's tone was all together controlled and entirely disapproving. "Has your husband gone and done something foolish... _again?"_

She felt Alice's hand on her arm. Her friend gave her the 'look'. The one that warned her that her temper could get her in just as much trouble as Charles' did him.

"Charles went with Doctor Baker to help a sick man, if that's what you call 'foolish'!" she snapped.

Harriet looked at the women surrounding them. Without exception, they all looked censorious. The dark-haired woman smirked and then did that little thing – drawing in a breath, pursing her lips, tilting her head to the right, and then letting it out in a long, slow and showy exasperated sigh.

"Caroline. Caroline. You must wake up! Why everyone here knows what your husband is up to. Really." She shook her head. "He's with those Indians and you know full well there's a law says no Indian can be in Minnesota. Why..." She paused and a dark light entered her eyes. "I guess you could say that would make him a criminal. Now wouldn't it?"

Caroline was on her feet before Alice could stop her. "You take that back, you...witch!"

The audible gasps of the Ladies Christian Society did nothing to quench her anger.

"Are we or are we _not_ in the church?" she nearly shouted. "Is this not God's house where _all_ His children are welcome? A moment ago you were discussing the charity drive. These Indians – Little Crow and his family – had no food. What did you expect that man – he's a father too, you know – to do? Was he to sit by while his children starved? He had to find food for them. Wouldn't you, Harriet Oleson..." She looked around. Many of the women were looking at their hands, or the window, or the altar – anywhere but at her. "...or any of you, do the same if your children were starving?"

"They're Indians. They deserve to starve."

Caroline whirled at the familiar voice. Her breath caught when she saw Hugh MacGregor standing there, staring at her; a self-satisfied smirk darkening his heavily jowled face.

Her jaw was set. "No more than you or yours do, Mister MacGregor."

"You hear that ladies?" The Scot advanced to the front of the sanctuary and then turned back to address those assembled there. "Mrs. Ingalls here would take food from your children and feed it to filthy murderin' savages. The same savages that killed your kin less than fifteen years before! How many of you would have a son or daughter," he paused as if in pain, 'or husband or wife standing by you if everyone one of those lyin' stinkin' heathens had been wiped from the face of the earth!"

"That's quite enough, Hugh," a quiet voice said. "Remember, you are in God's house."

Caroline turned on her heel to find the Reverend Alden standing at the front of the church, Bible in hand. He must have come from the back room.

"Read your Bible, minister!" Hugh countered. "There's plenty of instances of God strikin' down whole nations of pagans!"

"Then it's well that we don't live by the Old Testament anymore, but by the New," the reverend replied as he descended the steps and headed up the aisle toward the livid man. "Did our Lord not say, 'Ye have heard that it hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy. But _I_ say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you'?"

Harriet was sputtering as usual. "But you can't...well...I mean...you don't really expect us to love _savages_ , do you?"

"I expect that very thing, as I would expect you to love any of God's creatures who are put in your path to cherish or to care for." The reverend crossed over to her and took her hand. "Caroline, I thank the Lord for courageous men like Charles whose trust in the Lord lets them speak out with boldness."

"I wonder," Hugh MacGregor said ominously, "if the church council knows the reverend they pay is an Injun lover?"

The Reverend Alden looked toward him. "Is that a threat, Hugh?"

The Scot's eyes narrowed. His gaze touched the reverend but halted on her. "I don't make threats, minister. Just promises."

A chill snaked down her spine and she began to shake.

The reverend noticed. "Caroline?"

She shook her head slightly. She would not give that man the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

The older man patted her hand and then turned back to MacGregor "Now, what did you want, Hugh?"

The vile man's eyes lit with a kind of secret joy. "I came to bring Mrs. Ingalls a message from her husband."

Caroline stiffened. Her breathing grew rapid.

The Reverend Alden's hand tightened on hers. His pale eyes said, ' _Be brave._ '

She nodded.

"And what is that?" the reverend asked.

A slow sneer lifted one corner of Hugh MacGregor's lips.

"He's going to be late for supper. _Very_ late."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Laura and Mary were outside playing with Carrie and waiting for their Ma to get done with her meeting. It was getting dark and the sun was casting long shadows, so they were hopping in and out of them playing tag. Carrie didn't understand the rules, so it was kind of hard. Then again her little sister's laughter made not really being able to play the game worth it. She giggled like Pa sometimes and the sound of it was like water bubbling over stones. Laura shifted, moving her shadow just before Carrie could step on it and ran back toward the church. With how long Ma's meeting was taking, they'd be plumb worn out before they were done. 'Course, the easiest sleep came after the hardest work, as Pa liked to say. And while playing tag wasn't exactly 'work' she thought it would still apply.

She was sure gonna be ready for her bed when that darn meeting was over.

Suddenly remembering where she was and what she was doing, Laura looked around for Carrie. Her little sister had lost interest in tag and was busy picking up wooly bears and petting them like they were puppies. Mary was standing by Carrie but when she saw her looking, broke away and came to her side.

With her intense blue eyes, her sister indicated the church building. "What do you think they're talking about in there?"

"Boring stuff," Laura answered. "Who's baking what pie and who's knitting what bootie, I imagine."

"Maybe." Mary looked serious. "Did you see Mister MacGregor go in?"

Laura shook her head. "No, I didn't. I must have been with Carrie." It made her shake with anger to think of that man threatening their ma like he did. "What do you think he wants?"

Mary shrugged. "He came into town with two other men. They're over there by that wagon."

She peered into the growing darkness. "Which wagon?"

Her sister pointed. "That old ramshackle one over there," she said, indicating a sorry old excuse for a covered wagon tied up near the trees. There were two men with it.

Laura noted Mary's furrowed brow. "What are you thinkin', Mary?" she asked.

The blonde girl shook her head. "I don't know. There's something..."

A sound behind them made both of them swing around.

Mister MacGregor was coming down the church steps looking might unhappy – and they were in his way. A second before he would have barreled into her, Mary caught her sleeve and pulled her sideways. As it was Laura caught her foot and stumbled. When she hit the ground with an 'oomph' the angry man stopped and looked at her like it was the first time he'd seen her. She might have expected an apology, but that wasn't what she got.

Instead she got a look that could of killed.

The Scotsman's piggy eyes flicked from her to Mary and back before he turned and began to walk away.

"Hey!" Laura shouted as she jumped to her feet. "Ain't you gonna say you're sorry?"

"Laura," Mary warned. She shook her head. "Don't."

It was too late. Mister MacGregor turned sharply and loomed over her. "What'd you say?" he demanded.

She swallowed hard, but she didn't back down. "I said, 'Ain't you gonna say you're sorry?' People just shouldn't go around almost knockin' other people down."

"You got quite a mouth on you, girl," he growled.

"Only when I got somethin' worthwhile to say," she shot back.

Again his eyes went to Mary. "You're the Ingalls' girls, aren't you?"

There was something in the way he asked it that almost made her want to say 'no', and _that_ made her madder than a wet hen.

"Yes," Laura replied. "you got somethin' to say about it?"

"Laura. Mary. Come away!"

Laura looked and saw her ma standing on the church steps with Carrie. Mrs. Garvey was beside her. Ma's mouth was a thin line and she had that little pucker between her eyebrows that only showed up when she was frowning.

"I said, 'Come away!'"

Laura started to follow Mary, but found she couldn't. Mister MacGregor had hold of her arm. She pulled against his grip. "Hey! You let me go."

"I got a message for your father. You give it to him, you hear?"

She could hear her mother coming up behind her.

"What's that?"

"You tell him the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

With that, the angry man released her and headed back toward the wagon where the other men were waiting.

Her mother was out of breath by the time she arrived at her side, even though it had only been thirty or forty feet she'd crossed.

"What did he want?" she demanded.

Laura shook her head. "I'm not sure, Ma."

Her mother's gaze was on the man's retreating form. "What did he say to you? Laura!"

She didn't' think it was so all-fired important. Her pa had told her angry people don't make a lot of sense. Finally she shrugged.

"He gave me a message for Pa."

It must have _been_ important. Most of the color drained from her mother's face. Her voice barely above a whisper. "What did he say?"

When she told her ma what Mister MacGregor had said about the apple, well, there went the rest of the color. She was pale as a ghost and shaking.

"What is it, Ma?" Mary asked.

"Here, take your sister." As she handed Carrie off to Mary, her mother reached out for her hand, which was something she hardly ever did anymore. Gripping it tightly, she said, "It's time to get home."

And with that she led them south along Middle Ridge Fire Road.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Caroline walked fast. It was almost dark and they had a good three miles to travel before they would arrive at their home. They had just passed Doctor Baker's office and were nearing the bend in the road that turned east and led to their land. She wasn't sure if Hugh MacGregor and his ruffians would try anything, but she very much wanted to have a roof over the head of her children and to have a locked door between her and him. The man truly frightened her. When she had stood in their home, facing him down before he went to look for Charles and the Indians, she had been certain he was going to do something to make her talk. Her fear had not been for herself, but for her children. Any man knew that if you threatened a woman's children she would do just about anything to save them.

She thanked the Lord it had not come down to a choice – the girls or Charles' safety.

All of a sudden she realized Laura was not beside her. Turning back she saw her, lingering in the middle of the road; her face turned toward Walnut Grove.

"Laura! Keep up!" Caroline called. "Laura!"

Her child turned and then ran to her side. "Sorry, Ma. I thought I heard a wagon."

Fear gripped her. MacGregor! "Come on. We need to –"

"There it is, Ma!" Mary remarked as she joined them with Carrie in hand.

Caroline turned back. She could hear the rattle of the wagon wheels. For a moment she had no sense of direction. Then she realized it couldn't be Hugh MacGregor as the vehicle was coming in from the west along the path that merged with the road south of town. A moment later the wagon pulled into sight and turned away from them toward Walnut Grove.

"They're moving awful fast, Ma," Mary said.

She nodded. Yes, they were. She could just make out three men. There were two in the seat and one sitting in the back. As the wagon headed north, a last ray of light struck the bare head of the man who was seated in the bed.

His hair flashed like molten gold.

She gasped.

"What is it, Ma?" Laura asked, clearly concerned.

What did she answer? Was it fear? Was her mind jumping to conclusions when she had no facts? Or what it instead that intuition that tells a mother when her child is in danger?

Or a woman when the man she loves has been hurt.

"Ma?" It was Mary this time.

She warred with herself for a moment. If that was _indeed_ Doctor Baker sitting in the back of the wagon that meant, most likely, that someone was laying in it hurt. It could be one of the other men, but if it was Charles... She looked at her three babies, who loved their Pa so much.

What would she walk them into?

Mary took it out of her hands. Her voice trembled as she asked, "Was that Doctor Baker in the back, Ma?"

Laura caught her hand. "Wasn't he with Pa?"

"The answer is 'yes ' to both questions." She put her other hand up to still more. "And that's all we know. Now I need you two to remain calm." She indicated Carrie with a nod and lowered her voice. "You're frightening your sister."

"Sorry, Ma," they said in chorus.

"What are we going to do?" Mary asked.

Caroline ran a hand across her forehead. It settled near her mouth. "Give me a minute."

"Ma," Laura said, pulling at her hand.

"Laura, please!"

"But, Ma. Someone's coming..."

She heard it then as well. The sound of a horse's hooves striking the hard-packed earth of the road. The light was almost down so she shooed the girls to the side of the road and then waited. When she saw who it was that was riding past at a fast clip, Caroline stepped into the road and called.

"Johnathan!" She waited a moment and then tried again. "Johnathan!"

For a moment it seemed he hadn't heard. Then Johnathan Garvey reined in his horse and turned its nose back toward them. For a moment he looked puzzled. Then she saw recognition dawn.

Slowly he walked his horse back to them and dismounted. "Caroline," he said, tipping his hat. "Girls."

His face was unreadable.

"Where were you headed?" she asked, fighting to control the tremble in her voice.

His gaze went to the girls. She saw the same hesitation in his eyes that she had had and the same knowledge dawn that there was nothing he could do but say whatever it was he needed to say.

"Out to your place."

She drew in a sharp breath. "Charles?"

Again, he glanced at the girls. "He's been...hurt. He's with Doc Baker."

"Oh God..."

Johnathan looked at her with sympathy. She could tell there was more he wanted to say.

The fact that he _didn't_ say it truly terrified her.

"Why don't you take my horse, Caroline?" the big man said as casually as he could. "I'll walk back with the girls."

She nodded her thanks. It would give her time to talk to Doctor Baker alone.

And to deal with whatever it was she would find.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hiram left his office for some fresh air. Leaning against the side of the wagon they had carried Charles in he removed his glasses and ran a hand over his eyes. He'd had some food and coffee and a little time to rest, but that had done nothing to alter how _bone-weary_ he felt. Of course, he knew the way he felt had as much if not more to do with the events of the last two days as it did with his physical condition. He'd seen just about everything in his decades of doctoring – fever, plagues, broken bones and broken lives. Most of the time the things he had to cope with were the acts of God, and while that was hard for a family to take when he had to tell them the worst, there was still a peace to be found in the fact that a good and loving Father had allowed these things to occur for His purposes and His glory.

He drew a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing it as he returned his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

It was when things like this occurred – like what had happened to Charles – that he felt his faith shaken. Charles was an exemplarily man. While he could be stubborn, and definitely had a temper that needed reining in now and then, there was no one he knew as honest, as loyal, or as loving to his family. The idea that a coward, a _bully_ and a brute like Hugh MacGregor could come this close to... Hiram sighed. Well, to _killing_ him, was almost more than his understanding of a good God could justify. The blond man smiled wearily. Of course, if he stopped believing in God it would only make matters worse.

Then there would be _no_ purpose to all the suffering.

The sound of a horse barreling down on him brought his head up. Johnathan had taken off to fetch Caroline, but it was too soon for him to have returned. Stepping away from the wagon, he gazed toward the south and the road coming into town. It was dark now and almost impossible to see, but he thought it was a single horse and rider. Yes. Yes, it was. And it appeared to be a woman.

Caroline.

Nels had gone home. Lars was sitting with Charles. That left him free to deal with the woman who was probably going to become his next patient. Caroline's love for her husband was fierce. Once she knew the danger he was in and the fact that they needed to keep a close watch, she would never leave his side. She wouldn't eat or sleep.

He'd have to make sure to remember to get one of the other ladies to go out to the house to relieve her.

She rode up next to him and waited until he caught the horse's reins before dismounting. Her skin was pale, which accented her wide frightened eyes.

"Doctor Baker, Johnathan told me. I..." She drew a sharp breath. Her jaw tightened and she blinked back tears. "How bad is it?"

He reached out to steady her with a hand to her shoulder. "Charles was severely beaten."

She stiffened under his hand. "MacGregor?"

"Two ruffians he had with him." He shook his head. "Hugh's too smart to do anything himself."

Anger narrowed her eyes. "He's a coward!"

He nodded. "I know you're furious, Caroline, and rightly so, but for now you need to focus on your family. Charles is going to need to be looked after closely for a week or so and – "

"Closely?" she repeated. "Charles has been beaten before. The recovery has been painful, but..." The blonde woman shivered. "Hiram, what _aren't_ you telling me?"

He squeezed her shoulder. "This time he took a pretty brutal blow to the head. He was struck hard enough it broke the skin and maybe even cracked his skull. You and the girls are going to have to keep a twenty-four hour watch on him for the next few days." Hiram mentally winced before finishing. "Personally, I think his skull _was_ fractured, which could mean swelling or even a blood clot. You'll have to watch for signs of something more severe than a concussion and most of all, you will _have_ to keep him still."

As the litany of possibilities had gone on Caroline had grown very quiet. Her hand was at her throat; her fingers played with the fabric of her blouse.

"Can I see him?" she asked in a small voice.

He released his grip on her shoulder. "Of course. You can go relieve Lars. It was hard for him, seeing the shape Charles was in. I think Lars needs to go home and get some rest." Hiram smiled. "You send him out here and I'll tell him that's my prescription."

She nodded but she didn't move.

"Is there something else I can do for you?" he asked.

Caroline nodded. "I was walking home with the girls when Johnathan overtook us. He's walking back with them right now. Can you... Will you keep them outside with you until I call?"

"I think that would be wise." Hiram paused. "I'd tell you to have them wait until morning to go in and see Charles, but knowing you Ingalls, I would have quite a fight on my hands. Especially with Laura," he added quietly.

Her eyes were moist. "What will you tell them?"

"That there are bad men in the world and, sometimes when good men try to stop them from doing evil, they get hurt." He shifted. "I'll tell them that their pa is braver than any man I know and that he should recover fine. It will just take time."

"Should?"

He nodded. "Honestly, Caroline, that's about as much as I can say."

As he spoke Johnathan Garvey appeared in the distance. He had Carrie on his shoulders. Mary was at his side and Laura was trailing a few steps behind.

"Here they come," he said. As Caroline turned to look, he added quietly, "Do you want me to check with Johnathan about the girls staying with him and Alice tonight?" They'd need somewhere safe to go while their mother remained in the office, he knew, with a loving woman and a strong faithful man to care for them and field their questions.

It was going to be a long night for all the Ingalls.

"Yes. Please," she replied and with that, headed into the practice.

Hiram watched as the Ingalls' children approached. He wondered what Johnathan had told them.

And if, in the end, what any of them had to say would prove to be the truth.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The room was dark with only a single oil lamp lit. It was sitting on the table at the entrance to the room where Charles' lay. Moonlight spilled in through an open window, striking the figure sitting by the bed. Lars had his head down and his lips were moving in what she could only assume was prayer. Caroline paused in the doorway and placed a hand against the jamb to steady herself. Charles had been a caution when they met. When young, he had had an even quicker temper and it might explode with very little provocation. As he matured, his anger became more focused. It had to do with injustice. While he had learned to take insults and personal jibes in stride, when it came to right and wrong – when someone was being prejudiced against or treated unfairly – or, Heaven forfend, if someone committed a transgression against one of his own – well, there was simply no stopping him. She loved him for it, but at the same time there was a little part of her that wished his sense of justice wasn't _quite_ so high.

Lars stirred. He lifted his head, sighed deeply, and then rose. Her presence startled him slightly.

Making his way over to her, the older man said, "Caroline, I am so sorry _ve vere_ not in time to prevent this."

"Doctor Baker didn't tell me," she said, her voice a shaking whisper, "what exactly happened?"

"Hiram said that _vhen_ MacGregor found them Charles confronted him and called him a 'coward'." He glanced at the sleeping form of her husband. "MacGregor and his men _vere_ going to gun the Indians down. Charles took a stand _vit_ the natives and against Hugh and his men." He paused and his pale eyes locked with hers. "Even _vhen_ that bully came back with the army and a Gatling gun."

Her hand went to her lips. "A Gatling gun? Dear God..."

Charles could have come home as a corpse riddled with bullets.

Lars placed a steadying hand on her arm. "He is here, Caroline. Safe."

She nodded. She knew that. Still, that did little to take the picture of her husband gunned down in cold blood from her mind's eye. "Was that when he was beaten?"

The older man shook his head. "No. _Vhen_ the army saw that the Indians had gone, they turned around and left _vitout_ firing off a shot. MacGregor and the two men he had _vit_ him doubled back and took Charles and Hiram unawares in the middle of the night." A sad smile curled the corner of his lips. "According to Hiram Charles held his own, even in an unfair fight."

"When did this happen?"

He paused. "Over a day ago. MacGregor left them without provisions. They _vere valking vhen ve_ found them."

Walking. Beaten. Injured. With a life threatening blow to the head.

Tears welled in her eyes. "Doctor Baker said he would like to see you."

Lars laughed. "Oh, yeah. He _vants_ to send me home."

She pressed his arm with her fingers. "You should go. Doctor Baker is going to have the children go home with the Garveys, so I'll be here. I _do_ thank you for all you've done."

"It _vas_ not enough," he said sadly. Then, glancing over his shoulder at Charles, he added, "He is a good man, Caroline. You take care of him."

She forced a smile in return as he started for the door. "I will."

Seconds later she was alone in the room with her husband. There was very little sound except his labored breathing. Crossing over to him, she stood by the bed on the side he was facing and reached out to touch his tousled hair where it showed above the bandage. As her fingers ran through it, they met with resistance. It took a second, but she realized that the brown curls she loved so much were matted with dirt and blood. Apparently the doctor had professionally cleaned the wound and dressed it, but not cleaned up Charles yet. Most likely he hadn't had time. Hiram wouldn't have expected her to arrive so soon. Caroline sucked in air and turned to look out the door. Her children were out there by now, waiting, wanting to see their pa – to touch him.

Did she dare let them?

Taking the seat Lars had occupied minutes before, she sat down, leaned in, and began to stroke his cheek.

"Charles?" she tried. "Charles, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"Charles?"

This time there was a flicker of movement behind his eyelids. The dark lashes fluttered, but his eyes did not open.

"Charles, it's Caroline. You're home. You're back in Walnut Grove."

This time he shifted slightly and tried to lift his head, which brought a moan.

"Stay still. Doctor Baker doesn't want you to move." She drew in air to quench the anger rising in her. "You've been struck on the head. There may be a concussion."

Again he moaned and, this time, opened his eyes. Not much, but enough for her to see their beautiful green color. His fingers moved as if seeking hers.

She gripped them with one hand while the other went to his hair and caressed it. "Don't move, Charles. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here."

In spite of everything a slight smile lifted the corner of one lip. He might have nodded. She wasn't sure. Then his eyes closed again.

"Don't be too troubled by the fact that he's not conscious, Caroline," Doctor Baker said as he entered the room. "It's not unusual for someone who's taken a hard blow to the head to be in and out of consciousness for days." He came to the other side of the bed and looked down. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to get him cleaned up. I didn't expect you so soon."

Her hand was on Charles' cheek. At least – so far – there was no fever. After a moment she looked up at the blond man. "How are the girls?"

"Worried," he said, passing a hand over his chin. "Scared."

Caroline blew out a little puff of air that was not quite a laugh. "Me too."

"Do you want me to let Johnathan take them and have them come back in the morning?"

Did she want that? _Yes._ Was it right?

She thought about the unthinkable possibility that Charles might not make it though the night and shook her head.

"No. It's their right as much as mine to see their father."

"If it will help, Carrie's already asleep in the back of the wagon."

Relief flooded through her. "Oh, yes, that helps."

"Do you want me to bring them into the front room?"

She looked at Hiram Baker. How many times had he been through this? How many worried families, terrified children, and frantic wives had he comforted over the years, always knowing that they looked to him for miracles he might not be able to provide? She rose to her feet and walked over to him and met his weary gaze.

"How are _you_ , Hiram?"

His eyes grew moist and he shook his head. "Now don't go being kind, Caroline. I'm not sure I can take it."

She nodded toward his face. "They hurt you too."

"It's nothing. A blow to the chin."

"Was that _all_ it was?" she asked, suspecting there was more.

"No, it was a warning," he admitted with a sigh. "MacGregor warned that, if I helped you, he would ruin me...like he intends to ruin Charles."

She shook off concern for herself. "The people of Walnut Grove will support you."

Hiram's smile was wry. "I'd like to believe that, Caroline, but you know what fear can do. If MacGregor threatens harm or begins a campaign of intimidation, most won't have the stomach to fight him."

She knew he was right. She just didn't want to admit it.

He looked at her a moment longer and then said, "I'll go get the girls."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Doctor Baker appeared in the door of his practice, Mary went right up to him. She didn't. She didn't want to.

She was scared.

When grown-ups moved around avoiding you and then speaking in whispers when you were near, it never meant anything good. Mister Garvey hadn't' said much of anything, but she'd seen Doc Baker's face and from the way it was bruised, someone had hit him real hard. Now, Doc Baker was a quiet kind of man. He seldom said anything that riled anyone.

Laura shivered.

Pa was another matter.

Pa was like a mountain, planted so deep you couldn't move him. If he thought something was wrong, then he'd stand up against a rushing tide to make sure people took notice and made things right. She'd seen it happen time and time before. Speaking out got him into trouble, just like it got _her_ into trouble. Only 'cause Pa was a grown-up he never got whupped or had to go stand in the corner or ever take it back. She remembered what that had got him when he stood up to the Galenders for the way they treated Ma. This time, though, it was different. Pa had made a stand that was right unpopular with most everyone she knew – even Mary in the beginning.

He'd chosen to stand with the Indians and just about _everyone_ hated the Indians.

So now they probably hated Pa.

She'd asked him about hate that day when Spotted Wolf had been so mean, making her feel like – just because she was white – she'd had something to do with his Ma's death. When she asked Pa why people hated so much, he'd surprised her. He didn't have an answer.

Pa _always_ had answers.

"Laura?"

Doc Baker's voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up to find him coming toward her. "Your mother wants to see you inside," he said, his voice all gentle.

Her jaw tightened. Somehow that seemed to keep the tears from falling. "Do I have to?"

The doctor came over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You're worried about your Pa."

"Yes, sir," she said, expecting him to tell her she was foolish and shouldn't worry and Pa would be okay.

Instead, he stunned her by saying, "You have every right to be. Your Pa's been badly hurt, Laura. Your ma is going to need all the help you can give her until he gets back on his feet." He squeezed her shoulder. "She needs you to be brave. You _and_ Mary."

Her lower lip began to tremble. "Does he look real bad?" she asked, her voice robbed of strength.

"I haven't had time to clean him up. Your ma's working at it now." He paused. "You remember when Isaiah brought him home after he took on the Galenders?"

She nodded.

"It's like that."

"Laura, are you coming?" Mary called. "I'm going in without you if you don't come soon. I want to see Pa."

She wanted to shout 'hold your horses!', but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Pa was hurt. Ma needed her. Mary was waiting.

Doctor Baker held out his hand. "Come on then, we'll go in together."

Laura took it. She forced a little smile and then, together, they went in to see her pa.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Caroline had taken Mary's hand by the time Hiram and Laura appeared in the doorway. The blond man fell back as she reached out to her second child. Laura hesitated. She drew a breath as if reaching deep for some reserve of strength and then walked toward her with her head down. The poor thing was pale as morning mist.

As her fingers slipped into her child's, Caroline spoke her name softly, "Laura. Laura, look at me."

She did as she was told – as she'd been trained.

There were tears streaming down her face.

Caroline pulled her close. "Oh, Laura, sweetheart," she soothed. "Your Pa's going to be all right."

Laura's eyes darted to the darkened back room. "Are you sure?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Are you sure?" her child snapped. "Can you _promise_ me that?"

Caroline's gaze went to the blond man where he was leaning against the door jamb. What should she say?

"You know she can't, Laura," the doctor said softly, his tone holding no condemnation. "Only God knows for sure."

Laura's little shoulders were rising and falling with each rapid breath. "Why, Ma? _Why_ does God let this kind of thing happen? Pa's a good man. He doesn't _hate_ anyone. He's never hurt _anyone._ Why doesn't God do what He says?"

The barrage of questions was so unexpected it stopped her short for a moment. What was going on in that young head?

"What do you think God has promised that He has not done?" she asked at last.

"We just learned it Sunday," she sniffed. "God said in Romans, 'And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.'" Her child's frightened gaze locked on the doorway to that dark room. "I don't understand, Ma," she pleaded. "How can this be for _good?"_

Answers came and went, quickly thought of and just as quickly dismissed. How do you make a child understand something that it often took a lifetime of struggle and experience to comprehend? Closing her eyes for a second, she whispered. ' _God, give me the words._ '

Opening them, she said, "Laura," she started. "It's not that simple – "

"Caroline."

She looked at Doctor Baker. "Yes?"

"Why don't you take Mary in to see Charles. Laura," he said, extending a hand, "will you come with me for a minute?"

An expression of immense relief washed over Laura's face. Almost enough to make her say 'no'. But she knew if Hiram had asked then he had something in mind and she trusted him as the answer to her prayer.

With a nod, Caroline turned and led her eldest into the room where Charles lay.

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Laura looked up at Doctor Baker. He looked really tired, but that didn't stop the edges of his eyes from wrinkling with a smile. He laid a hand on her head, patted it, and said, "Let's you and me go sit under the stars."

"Yes, sir."

The wrinkles deepened. "What's say, just for now, that you call me Hiram?"

Her eyes widened. "I don't think I could do that, sir."

He laughed. "How about 'Doc' then, instead of 'sir'?"

Laura thought a moment and then nodded. "I think I _can_ do that."

He put his arm around her shoulders and aimed her toward the door. A minute later they were sitting on an old stump on the opposite side of the road from his office. The town was mostly dark. It was after midnight and most families were home and tucked in their beds sleeping and having sweet dreams.

Not _her_ family.

The Doc linked his hands between his knees and turned to look at her. "Do you remember last year, when your mother cut her leg?"

How could she forget? She nodded. "Yes."

"I was kind of upset with God then."

Startled, she looked at him. "You were?"

He nodded. "As a doctor, Laura, I took an oath to relieve suffering. I was by your place right after your ma was injured. I was going to take a look at that leg, but someone else came along with what I thought was a greater need, and I left her there." He turned toward her. "The Reverend Alden came by too, to get those pies. God didn't tell him your Ma was sick, did he? Certainly if God loved your mother and was working everything for her good, He should have done that, just like He should have let me know I needed to stay."

Her brows knit together as she nodded. She'd had that thought before but hadn't told anyone. "Yes, sir...Doc, seems He _should_ have."

"There's another verse, Laura," he said softly, "It says, 'Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver; I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.' Do you know what that means?"

She thought a moment. "We studied that one in Sunday School. The teacher told us that God uses affliction to make us more like Jesus." Laura swallowed. "I never could figure that. How could having the measles and itchin' all over and feelin' awful make me more like Jesus? He never had measles."

"That we know of," he said with a smile. Doctor Baker shifted then. He looked up at the stars. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

She looked too. "They sure are."

"God's people are as numerous as those stars, Laura. They live their lives and into them come joy and happiness, and tragedy and suffering, and even loss. As a doctor I see it every day. No one comes to see me because they're feeling fine. I only see people who are hurting and maybe dying. Did you ever think about that?"

No, she hadn't. Not really. "Doesn't that make you sad?"

He nodded. "And a little bit angry."

"You? Angry?"

"You remember the Jenkins girl, Laura? The one who died last fall after giving birth that sweet little baby?" When she nodded, he went on. "Such a lovely girl. Young. Charming. Jessie would have made a wonderful mother." He drew a deep breath. His eyes shone in the light. "I couldn't save her."

"Were you angry...at God?" she asked, her voice as tiny as she felt looking at those stars.

He nodded. "For a little while. But then I looked at that wonderful little life that I had brought into the world and saw the promise fulfilled."

"Huh?"

He turned toward her. "Jessie knew the Lord. Oh, she wanted to live here, to be a mother, and to raise her child, but she knew what was waiting for her on the other side. Laura, this world is only temporary. The God who loves us and works all things for our good is waiting on the other side of the veil. He has us here, teaching us, _refining_ us so that when we go to meet Him, we'll be made in the image of His son. Everything that happens is in God's hands and happens for a purpose. _Everything._ " Doc Baker shook his head. "If I didn't believe that, I'd hang up my shingle."

"So there's a reason Mister MacGregor hurt Pa?"

He looked at her. "Yes. It may be for your pa or for your ma, or maybe for the people in the town, perhaps its for you – or even for all of us." He tapped her nose. "Maybe it happened so you would ask your question and you and I would end up out here sitting under the stars and talking about Him."

Her frown deepened as she tried to puzzle that one out. She drew in a deep breath and held it against what she thought she might be beginning to understand.

"So, if Pa _would_...die..."

His hand went to her shoulder. "Laura, with all that is in me, I don't believe that is going to happen, but yes, if your pa were to die, we have to believe that that _too_ is in God's hands and in His plan."

The breath came out. "That's awful hard."

He nodded. "Yes, it is. That's why it's called 'faith'."

"Laura!"

She and Doc Baker both looked toward his office. Her ma was standing in front of it; her shawl wrapped around her shoulders; bits of her golden hair billowing in the wind. As they started toward her, she began to cross the street. Laura was afraid of what her Ma had to say. All the way across the street she kept telling herself that what was happening was in God's hands and, no matter what, it was gonna go how God wanted it.

But she still wanted it to go _her_ way.

"Caroline?" Doc Baker asked.

Her mother smiled and then laughed. "Charles is awake." She looked down at her. "Laura, he's asking for you."

That was all it took.

She ran the rest of the way.


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

"Charles! What are you doing out of bed?"

It was early morning. Caroline had awakened to find her husband's side of the bed empty and nearly dropped over with panic. It abated a little bit when she found him seated in her chair before the fire. Charles was still in his night shirt, so it appeared he had no intention of going any farther.

He favored her with that sheepish look she adored – especially when it was capped off with that fringe of unruly brown curls dangling down on his forehead.

"I figured if I laid in a bed one more day I was gonna _turn_ into one," he said as his lips curled too.

She went to him. "Charles, you know what Doctor Baker said."

He nodded and then winced.

"Your head still hurts." She waited. When he said nothing, she added quietly, "The truth."

"Like a cow kicked it," he snorted.

She took his hand. "Come back to bed. Really, you _shouldn't_ be up."

Charles squeezed her fingers and waited until she looked down at him. "Just a little while, Caroline. Until the girls go off to school."

The last three days had been trying. Charles and Doctor Baker had been attacked on Thursday. They'd been brought into town late Friday, and he had spent Saturday at Doctor Baker's office. Johnathan and Lars had helped her to get him home on Sunday. They'd missed service and she knew that had set tongues to wagging even more than they'd already been doing. Now it was Tuesday. She'd let the girls stay home from school the day before. They were so worried about their pa she knew they wouldn't listen or learn anything in class. Charles was right. If they saw him sitting up, they would be able to go.

"All right. But if you get to feeling poorly, dizzy, or anything else, you _will_ tell me."

The look on his face was priceless. "Yes, Ma'am," he said in his best imitation of their girls.

Caroline shook her head and laughed. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" When he hesitated, she knew something was wrong. "What is it, Charles?"

"Later," he said, "my stomach's a little off."

The blond woman chewed her lip but said nothing. It was one of the symptoms Doctor Baker had told her to watch out for. Nausea. Headache was another, and fuzzy vision as well as a sensitivity to light. She'd asked him over the last few days if he was having trouble with any of them, but Charles was a _man_ and admitting weakness was about the last thing he was going to do – especially to her.

Caroline had the coffee going and breakfast cooking by the time the girls descended from the loft. They came down dressed, with mournful faces, looking like going to school was the last thing either of them wanted to do.

"Good morning," she said, her smile tight. "What's got you two so gloomy?"

"It just ain't right, Ma," Laura said, shaking her head. "Going to school when Pa needs us."

"Who says I need you?" a quiet voice spoke from out of the shadows.

Laura's eyes went wide. Mary was the first one to see him, sitting by the fire.

"Pa!" they both exclaimed.

The girls didn't see it, but she did. Charles rose slowly, opened his arms, and braced himself for the onslaught of love.

Both girls fell into his embrace.

A loving father was one of God's greatest creations. A man such as Charles, who sought and _fought_ to be what God intended fathers to be – strong, sure, faithful and loving – was a pillar of strength to them all. He seemed indomitable, unshakable... _Invincible._ What had happened had shown the girls that he was only human, as vulnerable to illness and accident as all of them. It had been difficult for Laura and Mary. Before, when the Galenders had beaten him, he had been on his feet the next day. This was harder.

And it wasn't over.

As he hugged them both, tears brimmed in his eyes. "You two are makin' an awful fuss," he said. "I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me, you hear?"

Mary and Laura were sniffing. "Yes, sir," Laura said.

"Now you go get your breakfast and get to school. I won't have anyone saying those Ingalls' girls are fallin' behind in their lessons."

"Sure thing, Pa," Mary said. "Come on, Laura."

"You want me to bring you somethin' to eat, Pa?" Laura asked.

Charles rarely lied. He did so now. "I already had mine. You go eat."

"Yes, Pa," they chimed in chorus.

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Caroline looked over the girls heads at Charles as they sat at the table eating breakfast. Carrie had awakened as well and was seated on Charles lap, snuggled up against him. His head was tilted back against the top rung of the chair and he had his hand on Carrie's hair. She could tell he was exhausted. His face was drawn either with fatigue or from battling what the scent of the food did to his stomach. He needed to be back in bed, but she knew he wouldn't go until the girls were out the door.

Rising, she declared, "It's getting late. Leave the dishes to me and you two get your books and get on your way."

"Yes, Ma'am," Laura said cheerfully as she headed for the ladder to the loft.

Mary followed more slowly. Halfway there she turned back. Her eyes were moist. "Is Pa going to be okay?" she asked quietly, so her sister couldn't hear. "He looks so weak."

Caroline went to her and put an arm around her oldest's shoulder. "He'll be fine. It will just take rest and time."

Laura came down from the loft a moment later with both her books and Mary's in hand. They went to their father and kissed him goodbye and then disappeared out the door.

Leaving the dishes, Caroline crossed the room to her husband's side. Carrie looked up at her, like she knew what she was going to say. The little thing hugged her Pa even closer.

"Carrie," she said, "your Pa needs to take a nap. Can you help me take him to bed?"

Charles looked up at her. What she saw was frightening. His eyes were unfocused; the one pupil still larger than the other. "Looks like your Ma's orderin' me to bed," he said with a weak smile. "Must have done somethin' wrong."

"Bad Pa!" Carrie laughed.

Caroline laughed too. "Yes, _bad_ Pa." She held out her hand. "Charles, will you _please_ go back to bed?"

He looked down at Carrie. "If this little one will show me the way. I think I plumb forgot how to get there."

She noted how when Charles stood and took Carrie's hand, he wobbled. Problems with balance, that was another of the warning signs Doctor Baker had told her to watch out for. She followed the two of them and got Charles situated, and then left Carrie with her pa while she went to gather the dishes and clear the table. When she returned to their bedroom some fifteen minutes later she found them both asleep. Charles was laying with his face turned toward the kitchen and Carrie was nestled in the crook of his arm.

The blond woman stood there a moment and then dropped to her knees beside the bed and linked her hands in prayer.

She was still there minutes later when a knock came at the door.

Caroline rose quickly and headed for the front of the house. Neither Charles or Carrie had awakened and she wanted to keep it that way. Catching the latch, she opened the door and found Doctor Baker standing outside with his hand poised to knock again. She smiled wanly at him and then stepped onto the stoop and closed the door behind her.

"Charles is asleep," she said in explanation. "I found him out of bed this morning and just got him back there."

The blond man snorted. "I should have known. How is he?"

She frowned. "I don't know. I've been watching for the signs you told me about. Some of them are there."

He nodded. "Just make sure you can wake him from time to time. As for the other signs, it's a little early to worry too much. He'd have some of them no matter what with that blow to the head. Give it time, Caroline. He needs to rest up for another few days and then take it easy for another week. No heavy lifting. No working in the fields. Nothing that can jar his head and cause further injury."

She rolled her eyes. " _You_ can tell him that. You know Charles."

Doctor Baker laughed. "I do. That's why I have arranged with Johnathan and a few other men from town to come out here and do some of the work so your crops don't go to waste."

Tears formed in her eyes. "Charles will never put up with that."

The doctor smiled. "What he doesn't know about he can't refuse. The men will come late, after their own work is done, and early before the day begins."

She shook her head. "He'll know the corn hasn't magically harvested itself."

"Only after it's too late," the blond man laughed.

Tears of gratitude broke free to trail down her cheeks. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded and then after a moment added, "There is something you should know."

"What? About Charles?"

"In a way, but not about his health. Hugh MacGregor has called a town meeting tonight. It's to be held in the church."

"What for?"

He shrugged. "To rake Charles and me over the coals, I presume."

"Charles _and_ you?"

The doctor sighed. "Hugh's been at it since that first night, spreading rumors, speaking in whispers, whipping up people's fear of the Indians – pointing out that both Charles and I took a stand against _him_ and the other white men of the town in favor of Little Crow and his people." He paused. "I intend to go. I'll speak for Charles as well, if that's all right with you."

She nodded.

"You mustn't let him hear about this happening. He needs to stay put. In the condition he's in, if he were to take another blow to the head..."

He let her finish the thought.

"I won't tell him," she promised.

The blond man held her gaze a moment longer. "Johnathan is coming here with his son to keep watch tonight during and after the meeting."

"You don't think _we're_ in danger, do you?"

"It was only a few days after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead that he was proclaimed king. And only a few more before his death was called for by the same people who _declared_ him king. A mob can turn on a five cent piece, Caroline. We'll pray this one doesn't, but with MacGregor stoking the fire anything is possible. He knows how to whip people into a frenzy."

"But why?" she asked. "Why does he hate the Indians so?"

Hiram paused. "MacGregor suffered during the Dakota war, Caroline. He lost three children to the Indians."

Her hand flew to her lips. "Dear God! I had no idea."

"Like I said to Charles, there's a reason for his hate, but that doesn't mean there's an _excuse_ for it. Any rational man would know you can't blame an entire race for the sins of a few. What I am afraid of is that Hugh is _not_ rational." He hesitated. "Now that the Indians are out of reach, I am afraid he has focused his rage on Charles."

"And you."

The doctor smiled. "I'm just an old country doctor. MacGregor thinks, because of my oath, I felt compelled to help the Indians. Oh, he's still made as a wet hornet at me, but its Charles his hate is aimed at. It's important you keep him inside as long as you can. Maybe this will blow over... I don't know."

A thought struck her. "Do you think the girls are safe in town?"

"I imagine so long as they are home before the meeting, it will be all right. I asked the reverend to look in on them and maybe walk them home from school. He was coming out to see you anyhow. Right now," he nodded toward the house, "since I'm here I should check on Charles."

She followed his gaze. "I hate to admit it," she said with a sigh, "but it was easier when he was unconscious."

"I don't think there's a woman alive who would disagree with that," he snorted.

She looked at him sharply and then started to laugh when she realized what she had said. "I suppose not!"

Still laughing, Caroline turned and took hold of the latch and lifted it.

"Come on inside."

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The day had gone by real fast. School was almost over. Miss Beadle had sent them outside to wait while she and Mary cleared the chalkboards and wrote riddles on them. They were going to have a contest when they went back in to see who could solve them the quickest.

The sky had darkened while they'd been inside and it looked like rain. The weather was turning toward winter as Pa would say. Laura stopped what she was doing and looked toward the south and home. She hoped Pa was feeling better. It had been so wonderful to see him sitting up instead of lying all quiet in bed. They'd talked on the way into town and Mary said she didn't think he was much stronger, but _she_ didn't believe that. He _was_ feeling better and soon Pa would be back to being his laughing, smiling self. She sure missed that. Almost as much as she missed the sound of his fiddle at night.

He hadn't played his fiddle since the Indians had come to town.

It puzzled her still that her pa had gone out of his way to help the Indians – even putting himself in danger – and they hadn't seemed all that happy about it. Especially Spotted Wolf. The young brave was downright unfriendly. She wondered, if they knew her pa had almost been killed because of them, would it make any difference? But then they'd never know. They were probably all the way to Canada by now. Laura's lips curled in a sad little smile. Sally was there too. She wondered if her doll would like Canada. She missed Sally, but then she was glad she'd given her to Yellow Feather. Little Crow's daughter had looked so sad and forlorn. She really needed a friend.

"Hey, Ingalls!" a voice called. "Where's that Injun lovin' pa of yours? I ain't seen him in town lately. He yeller or what?"

Laura drew in a deep breath and sighed.

Rob MacGregor.

Her ma's voice rang in her ears. _'Keep your temper, Laura. The best way to get someone to stop taunting you is to ignore them.'_

Ignore them, she told herself. Ignore _him._

"I must be right since you ain't sayin' anythin'."

Unfortunately, whatever was in her that bubbled up and boiled over wasn't paying any attention to her ma.

She spun on her heel to find Rob standing about five feet away from her. He was flanked on either side by two other boys. "You take that back," she said as her fingers clenched and turned into fists.

"Preacher tells us not to lie," Rob jibed. "It's the _truth_ and I ain't gonna take it back. Your pa's yeller and worse than that, he's an Injun lover." The brown-haired boy turned to one of his companions. "He was gonna shoot Jake and Whit's pas to keep them Injuns alive. Might'a killed 'em both. He ain't fit to live in Walnut Grove."

"I oughta kill him for aimin' a rifle at my Pa!" Jake yelled.

"Mine too!" Whitney chimed in.

"My pa was protectin' the Indians because _your_ pas were trying to kill them when they didn't do nothing wrong!"

"They're breathin'!" Rob shouted back. "Those heathens killed my kin! They deserve to rot in Hell!"

"They didn't either, Rob MacGregor! Who's lyin' now? Spotted Wolf and Yellow Feather are just kids. Your pa was gonna _kill_ kids!"

"Injun kids grow up to be big Injuns!" Jake snarled. "Ain't no difference."

"I saw that Indian girl with your doll, Laura," Whitney sniped. "How come she had that doll? "

"I _gave_ Sally to her," she snapped back.

"Did you?" Rob picked up. "Or did she get that doll 'cause _she's_ your pa's too? Everyone knows how much he _loves_ Injuns. Maybe he loves Injun women too!"

It was a good thing she hadn't promised her ma _today_ that she'd mind that temper.

Laura exploded, fists flying toward the three boys. For a moment they were stunned that a girl was gonna take them on alone and she got in a few good punches.

Then they started hitting back.

The other kids who were outside started paying attention then. She heard them shouting and taking sides. There were more yelling for Rob than against him and that made her even _more_ mad. She kept kicking and swinging even when blood started running out of her nose, landing a good one now and then. She caught Rob in the stomach with her fist and drove him back. Trouble was, when he came back up, he looked like he was gonna kill her.

It was at that moment that she heard a loud voice proclaim. "Shame on you! All of you! Stop this fighting!"

It was the Reverend Alden.

Rob took advantage of her stopping to look at the Reverend to come at her again. He kicked her in the leg so hard she went down. It comforted her a little bit when seconds later the reverend caught him by the ear and hauled him back.

She didn't laugh when Rob yelped, but she wanted to.

The minister stared down at Rob who looked up at him defiantly for about a heartbeat and then dropped his gaze to his toes. She started to smile, but then the reverend looked at her, only a little less stern. "Laura, I'm surprised at you, street brawling."

She climbed to her feet and faced him. "I'd do it again. He said Pa was yellow and..." She hesitated. It was hard to say. "That he was an Indian lover and that Yellow Feather was...well...was..."

The Reverend Alden didn't say anything, but it seemed he understood. He turned still holding Rob by the ear, toward the school. Miss Beadle was coming toward them. Mary was with her.

"Oh, my!" her teacher exclaimed.

The blonde woman came walking over to her and offered Laura her handkerchief. The blood wasn't running so fast as it had been and she'd almost forgotten about it. Taking the hankie, she applied it to her upper lip.

"Thanks, Miss Beadle."

"What was this all about?" her teacher demanded.

Before either of them could reply, the Reverend Alden said, "It appears young Rob here has been defaming Laura's pa. I don't know who started it – "

"She did!" Rob yelled, pointing at her. "She threw the first punch!"

The minister looked at her. "Is that true, Laura?"

She kept her back straight and her head high. "Yes, sir."

His pale eyes lit with something. They kind of looked like they were laughing at the same time as being sore.

"Well, whatever this was about, the break is over. You two need to come back into the classroom," Miss Beadle said.

The reverend released Rob at last. The brown-haired boy glared at her and then slunk back toward the classroom rubbing his ear all the way.

"If I may, Miss Beadle, I would like to talk to Laura before she returns to class."

"That will be fine. Come in when you're done, Laura."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The reverend looked down at her. "What's say we go sit in the shade under the tree?"

Nodding, she followed him.

Boy, was she in for it when she got home.

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Robert Alden glanced at the girl walking at his side. Laura was one of God's finest creations and she would be a force for good in the world, just like her parents, _if_ that fiery temper and determination could be turned and set in the right direction. She was her father's daughter in every way – quick to laugh, quicker to love, fiercely protective of her own, and outraged by injustice. The trouble was, Charles was a grown man and could take care of himself. Laura was a small vulnerable girl. This current trouble with Hugh MacGregor was no simple matter. Hugh was primed and ready to go off at the slightest provocation. He would hate to think a grown man would take revenge on a child, but with what he had heard about the last time Rob MacGregor and Laura had quarreled, things had progressed to the point where the boy had put a rope around her neck and tried to strangle her.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Why don't we stop here, Laura?" He pointed to a spot of soft long grass under the tree.

She nodded and sat and then, after he had done the same, turned to look at him. "Am I in trouble?"

"With who?" he asked with a gentle smile. "Me, or God?"

The child looked rightly chastised. "Both, I guess."

He patted her hand. "I didn't bring you over here because I'm angry, Laura. While I completely disagree with you getting into a fight, we'll let that go for now. I know Rob provoked you. What I wanted to talk to you about is what's going on between your family and the MacGregors."

"There nothing's going on 'between' us!" she said, her temper and her color still high. "We haven't done anything to them. Mister MacGregor tried to kill Pa!"

He'd talked to Hiram Baker and knew what the two men had been through. "Yes. And that was wrong. Do you think you need to be the one to punish him?"

Honest as always, the young girl said, "I'd sure like to, but I know that ain't right." She held his gaze, her pale eyes wide. "I know what you'd tell me. It's the same as Ma. It's up to God to punish bad people."

"That's right. God says, 'To me belongeth vengeance, and recompense. Their foot shall slide in due time for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste.'" He paused. "Do you believe that, Laura?"

She looked at her hands. "Yes, sir."

"But you're still angry?"

There were tears in her eyes when she turned them up to look at him. "That Rob, he's a liar. He said that Yellow Feather was...was..."

"You father's child?" He'd heard the same rumor, spread by the older MacGregor. "Is that why you struck him?"

She nodded.

"Do you think striking him will keep him from saying those things again? Or might it instead make him think it _is_ true since you were so upset?"

She looked crestfallen. "I never thought of that."

"You've heard the expression, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?"

Obviously, she had. Laura barely kept her eyes from rolling.

"It's quite untrue," he said, surprising her. "Words hurt more than sticks and stones because there is nothing you can do to defend yourself against them. They're like a splinter under your skin. They can fester and poison you. That's what Hugh MacGregor is trying to do to your father's reputation. Use words to destroy it." He hesitated. "So what do you think you need to do about that?"

"Not get into fights?"

"That would be a good start," he said, barely containing his smile. "What else?"

She puzzled it over and shook her head.

"What did Jesus do when he was accused falsely?"

There was a moment of silence. "Well, he didn't pop anyone in the nose."

This time it escaped. He laughed. "No. No, he didn't. First of all he spoke the truth. And secondly, he loved the man who had falsely accused him. Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies and for those who persecute us. Doesn't he?"

Laura made that little face that she often did when confronted with something she didn't want to acknowledge. The child's lips pursed and her nose scrunched up as her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side.

"Do I have to love the MacGregors?" she asked.

"What do you think?"

She sighed. "I s'pose I do." Laura thought a moment more. "Does that mean I have to _like_ them too?"

"It means you have to wish them no harm and pray on their behalf that God will show them His truth. But no, you don't have to like them."

"Whew!" she blew out. "That's good, 'cause I don't think I could have done that."

A child's honesty. He found it _so_ refreshing!

After rising, the reverend held out his hand. As Laura took it, he pulled her up from the ground. "It's time you got back to school. At this point, the day will be over before you get back in your seat. I'm heading out to see your mother, so I'll wait on you and Mary if that's all right and walk home with you."

"That'd be great. I sure am looking forward to getting home," she said, the longing ringing in her voice. "I want to see how Pa is. Mary's kind of worried about him."

From what Hiram had said, the girl might have reason. "Before you go, why don't you and I ask God to heal your pa?"

Laura nodded. "I sure would like that, Reverend."

Taking her hand in his, they bowed their heads and did just that.


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

Her ma didn't say much of anything when she heard about the fight. Thank goodness Pa was sleeping. He'd probably of been sore even though he would have done the same thing – knocked Rob MacGregor's block off for telling fibs. Laura sighed as she glanced out the front window at her ma where she stood talking to the minister. Ma'd frowned when she told her and said shouldn't have hit Rob. Still, even though Ma's mouth had been mad, her eyes had been shining with pride. Ma knew there was only so much a girl could take and Rob had gone over the line. The problem was, Rob's Pa was going over the line the same way only with the grown-ups in the town. As she and the Reverend Alden walked toward their house there wasn't one neighbor who'd so much as looked their way or said hello. She thought they were being mean and unfriendly, but Reverend Alden told her they were scared. Mister MacGregor was a bully and he was threatening to hurt people if they had anything to do with them. It made her sad. Walnut Grove had been home for more than four years now. She liked the people here – well, if you left out Nellie and Willie Oleson.

She wondered now if they would have to leave.

If they did, she'd sure miss Miss Beadle and Mr. Hanson and a lot of other people. It seemed she might not have to miss Doctor Baker. He might come with them wherever they went. The Reverend Alden said most of his patients were staying away because Mister MacGregor had one of his men sitting outside the Doc's office looking intimidating. That was the word the minister used, _intimidating_.

It was right after school and Mary was sitting beside her at the table sewing on her new pinafore. She was trying to do sums but she might as well have been trying to float a sad iron in a lake. Her mind kept going to the room where Pa lay sleeping. Ma'd met her and the reverend at the door with a finger to her lips and then come outside to talk to them. She said Pa had insisted on going outside to see what was going on and had been madder than a hornet when he saw what Mister Hanson and the others were doing, working the crops and all. He'd picked up a hoe and headed for the corn field and collapsed at the edge of it.

Laura didn't know if there had ever been anything so hard as seeing Pa so weak.

Pushing her chair back, she looked at Mary and then stood up.

"Where are you going?" her sister asked.

"I'm gonna go sit with Pa."

"I don't know if you should. Ma said he was awful tired."

"I'm not gonna wake him up!" she snapped. Then she thought better of it. "Sorry, Mary. I just... I just want to sit with him."

"I think Carrie's in there."

Her little sister hadn't been much of anywhere else for days. "That's okay. I'll see if she wants me to read to her or anything."

Mary's eyes went to the window. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Laura turned and looked. "Probably about that meeting Mister MacGregor called for tonight." She made fists with her fingers. I'd sure like to go."

Her sister's gaze went to their parents' bedroom. "Don't you let Pa hear you mention that meeting. Ma said nothing would stop him if he knew and he'd probably kill himself trying to get there."

She frowned. Mary was right. She shouldn't have mentioned it.

Laura anchored her paper in her math book and closed it and then headed for her ma and pa's room. Carrie was there all right, sound asleep at the floor by the bed. With a shake of her head she picked the little girl up and took her to her own bed and laid her in it. Bending over she gave her littlest sister a kiss and then pulled her covers up to her chin. Carrie didn't understand. She just knew Pa wasn't Pa and it scared her. She'd been having nightmares and Mary and her had taken turns sleeping in her bed with her. That's why she was so tired now.

Leaving her sister's room, she returned to where her pa lay. Sitting beside him on the bed, Laura stared at him, thinking about how he looked like he had when she'd knocked the gun over and he'd been shot through the side. He was all pale and sweat plastered his curls to his forehead. They were getting long, those curls. Ma hadn't cut Pa's hair for a while and it was looking wild. Unable to resist, she reached out and ran her hands throw the mass of curls to the right side of his face. Pa's hair was so pretty. She wished she had it. It was a rich dark brown with little bits of silver shot through it that glinted when the sun hit it just right. It was thick and curled like lamb's wool. Hers was straight as a stick and dull and thin and...

Boring.

Laura paused with her hand in her pa's hair and then shifted her fingers to his face. As she did, tears welled in her eyes and one of them slipped down her cheek to wet her dress. Closing them, she thought about what Doctor Baker had told her about suffering, and how it was supposed to make you more perfect like Jesus. She didn't understand why Pa had to suffer so. He was just about as close to perfect as a man could get already.

Unexpectedly she felt her father's hand chase away a tear.

"You're lookin' mighty sad, Half-pint," he said.

She opened her eyes and looked. Pa was watching her, his green eyes about as misty as hers.

"How are you, Pa?" she asked.

He smiled. "Improving. I was up and around the house today while you were at school. Helped your Ma with some chores. I got a little too tired by the time I went outside and had to come in." He looked away, toward the window. "Tomorrow will be better."

She didn't know whether to mention him getting mad about the work the men from the town had done. She knew Pa was proud and didn't like to let others do things for him. Instead she said, "The Reverend Alden's here. He came to see you."

"Oh?" Pa frowned. "Where's he now?"

"Talkin' to Ma. They're outside. They didn't want to wake you."

He shook his head. "You'd think I was a hibernatin' bear. Seems all I do is sleep."

"Doctor Baker said you need to," she said, gently scolding him like Ma would. "He said that's the only way you're gonna get all better."

"Maybe, but a man can't lie around forever. There's fences to mend and fields to till and animals to look after." He touched her face with his fingers. "What little money we had has to be gone. Doc or no Doc, I need to get back to work."

"But Pa, you might hurt yourself!" She said those words with more fear in them than she'd intended. She knew what the Doc had said. Pa could have a blood clot from getting hit so hard. And it could kill him. Laura shook her head as the tears fell anew. "Don't, Pa. Just, don't!"

He looked stricken. A second later he shifted up in the bed and reached out to her. Feeling little as Carrie, she fell into his arms and rested her face against his chest.

"Oh, Pa. I couldn't _live_ without you," she sobbed.

His hand was on her hair, stroking it. "Half-pint, nothing's gonna happen to me. I'm mendin'. You'll see. I'll be up and around in no time." He took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. "I'm feeling better. Honest."

"No more headaches?" she asked hopefully.

When he hesitated, she knew what he was gonna say. "Just a small one now and then."

"You still ain't eatin'. Ma said so." He was looking skinny, just like a boy."

"Not doin' anything kills a man's appetite. Besides, your ma thinks I need to eat like that hibernatin' bear," Pa sighed. "I've been off my feet for near a week now. What I need to do is get up and get movin'. Laying in bed saps a man's strength." He grinned at her. "I thought about askin' your ma about goin' into town this afternoon."

It was out before she thought better of it. "Oh, no, Pa. You can't do that. You don't want to go into town today."

He frowned. "Why not?"

Laura paled. "You aren't well enough. Besides, there ain't nothin' going on in town. There never is..."

Pa was staring at her. "Laura, what's goin' on in town today?"

"Nothin', Pa," she winced. "I was just...worried you were too tired."

His feet were already over the side of the bed. Laura shifted out of the way as he rose and headed for the passage to the kitchen.

"Caroline!"

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Caroline looked at the Reverend Alden. She knew her husband's tone. He was upset about something.

She was afraid she knew what it was.

The older man frowned. "Do you think it's about the meeting?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How could he have found out?" the reverend asked her.

If she had to take a guess, the answer would have been a five letter word.

"Laura," she sighed.

"Would she have told Charles?"

She shook her head. "Not on purpose." With a frown she turned toward the door as it opened and Charles stepped out. He looked better for the nap he had taken. – on the mend, actually. But she knew that appearances could be deceiving. She'd watched him collapse that morning. The image of it still haunted her.

"Caroline," he said, his tone brooking no disobedience. "What's happenin' in town tonight?"

Laura peeked out from behind her pa. She winced and mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry,' and then went back in.

"Charles, you need to rest. Go back to..."

The Reverend Alden placed a hand on her arm. "Caroline, as I said earlier in our discussion, I disagree with you and Hiram. Charles deserves to know what is going on. This does affect him. It affects all of you."

They had argued about it right there on the stoop. The minister thought Charles should be at the meeting as he needed to know what Hugh MacGregor was about. _She_ agreed with Doctor Baker that they needed to keep it from him. Once he knew, there was nothing that would keep her bull-headed husband from going to the church and confronting the other man.

"He's not well enough..."

"Caroline," Charles said sternly. "You let me be the one to decide that." He looked at the reverend. "Now what's going on?"

"Why don't we go inside and sit down?" the older man suggested. "I don't know about you, Charles, but I'm a bit weary. It's been a long week."

She watched him nod. Charles turned then and headed back into the house. He proceeded the minister and took a seat at the table.

She noticed Laura had made herself scarce.

"All right. What's happenin' in town tonight?" Charles demanded.

"Hugh MacGregor has called a town meeting at the church tonight," the reverend said as he took a seat as well.

"What for?"

The older man shook his head. "I'm not sure exactly, other than to try to further poison the minds of the citizens of Walnut Grove against the Indians and, I'm afraid, you and your family."

He spoke to the reverend, but Charles' gaze was on her. "I have to go. You know I do. I can't let that man think he's frightened me into silence. There will be no stopping him if he does."

The minister nodded. "I told Caroline the same thing. Doctor Baker agrees with what you just said, though he said to tell you he intends to speak _for_ you and urges you to remain at home."

"No. I need to speak for myself.

Caroline looked at her husband, exasperated. "Charles, you're not well. Hiram said you are not out of danger yet. What if something should happen? What if that horrid man turns violent and strikes you again? You know what the doctor said about any further blows to the head – "

"I can't sit here while there are men talkin' about me – especially a man like Hugh MacGregor. And I can't let Hiram face him alone." His look was defiant. "Caroline, I just can't do it."

It was no use. She'd known all along that, if he found out, there would be no stopping him.

"A man has to do what he has to do, Caroline," the minister said.

With a sigh, she relented. "Mary can stay with Laura and Carrie. I'll get my coat –"

"No."

"Charles..."

He came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I won't have you exposed to that man, Caroline, and to the kind of things he's going to say." When she started to protest, he added softly, "And I don't want the girls left here alone. You never know."

"If you want, Charles, Hans said he would come out and watch the house while you're gone. Johnathan had to make a freight run or he would have done it."

She whirled on the reverend. "What? You knew? _How_ did you know Charles was going to win?"

His smile was gentle. "God moves in mysterious ways, Caroline. I always try to be prepared."

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Charles refused to help her let him dress. She watched him as he labored to pull his shirt and trousers on and to work his untamed hair into some kind of order. He was breathing heavily by the time he appeared in the doorway of the passage to their room dressed in his Sunday best.

Caroline took his hand and asked, "Charles, _must_ you go?"

"If I'm ever to hold my head up in this town again, you know I have to," he replied, his jaw tight. "MacGregor is a liar and if there is no one to tell the truth, then that's what the lie will become." He gently touched his wife's face. "I'll be all right," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "Don't worry."

"How can I _not_ worry?" she snapped. "That man was willing to kill women and children – and you! He could come to the meeting with a gun, Charles. He could – "

"Mrs. Ingalls," he said softly, "where's that faith you're always tellin' me to have?

She dipped her head and leaned it against his shoulder. "Oh, Charles, I came so close to losing you. I don't know what I'd do if I _did_. "

He laid his hand alongside her hair. "I'm not goin' into battle, Caroline. Just to a meeting. There will be other men there. MacGregor's tryin' to convince them he's the one in the right. He's not gonna do anythin' stupid."

At least not _during_ the meeting, he thought to himself.

"Are you ready, Charles?" the Reverend Alden asked.

Charles looked out past the wagon. Shortly after they'd come inside he'd seen Half-pint slip out the door and run to the barn.

"Give me a minute," he said, moving toward the door. "I want to tell Laura goodbye."

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If her pa died it was gonna be her fault. Why'd she been so careless? She'd seen the look in her ma's eyes when she realized Pa knew about the meeting. Ma'd looked like she was like to die. She hadn't scolded her or said anything to her. It would have been easier if she had – if she'd yelled or sent her to her room or something like that. Instead she just looked sad.

Sad and scared.

"Half-pint?"

Laura tried to become one with the shadows at the back of the horse stall. Maybe Pa would think she wasn't there.

"I saw you come in. Now come on out and talk to me."

He used _that_ voice. The one that said she'd better do what he said.

"Yes, sir," she answered as she stood and moved into the main part of the barn. Pa was standing there, backlit by the dying light outside. He almost looked like his old self except that he was _so_ skinny.

Pa made his way to a hay bale and sat on it. A second later he tapped the top and said, "Come on over here and sit by me."

She did what she was told.

Pa sat by her all silent for a minute and then he said, "You're thinkin' you shouldn't have said anything about the meetin'."

Laura sniffed. Then she nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Did your Ma tell you not to?"

She wondered if Ma's could get in trouble. "Yes, sir."

He reached over and took her hand. "Your Ma's scared and, you know what Half-pint, she's got a right to be. She's tryin' to protect me like she protects you girls, and I love her for that." He paused. "Do you understand why I have to go?"

She chewed her lip a minute. "No, sir, I don't."

Pa wasn't mad, he just nodded. "God made men and women different, Half-pint. Women are all about takin' care and keepin safe, about protectin' those they love."

"Don't men take care of those they love too, Pa? I mean, you do."

"Yes. But it's a different _kind_ of protectin'. A woman keeps her house and makes it a safe place for the man she loves and the children she gives him. A man, well, he has to protect that house – and that woman _and_ his children – from all the things in the world that might want to hurt them. From storms and fire, from wild animals, and from bad men." Pa stopped for a second, like he was thinking hard before speaking. "I have to protect you, Laura, you and your mother and sisters. If I don't show up to that meetin' well, even though I know it doesn't mean I'm a coward, other men will think it and they'll go tellin' others. And then you and your mother and sisters won't be safe 'cause everyone and anyone will think they can come out here and take what we have." He placed a hand on her head. "Do you understand?"

She did. It was the same way with Rob MacGregor. If she'd just rolled over and let him hit her and say all those bad things then everyone would have believed them.

"Yes, sir, I think I do," she said at last.

Pa leaned in close then and whispered, "So don't tell your Ma, but I think God may have made you slip up and let me know. I was prayin' that if MacGregor was up to anything, _He'd_ let me know."

"But Ma was praying you _wouldn'_ t find out, Pa. I heard her."

He winked. "Looks like you know now who's got the straight line." Her father stood and held out his hand. "Now, come on, Half-pint, you need to get your schoolin' done and I need to get on the road."

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Hiram Baker had to reach up and close his mouth with his fingers when he saw the Reverend Alden appear at the back of the church with Charles Ingalls in hand. Charles was pale and shaking and anywhere but where he _should_ have been, but he could tell from the determined look on the man's face that it would have taken roping and hogtying to keep him away from the meeting. Who knows how he found out about it. A slip of someone's tongue, most likely. As other heads began to turn and notice, a lot of the chatter in the sanctuary fell off to nothing.

It was easier to talk about a man when you did it to his back rather than his face.

Charles walked directly to the front of the church and took a seat in the front row. Hiram gave one last long look at the men seated in the pews and then joined him. Once there, he cast a professional eye over his defiant patient. What he found wasn't exactly to his liking, but he said nothing. Charles had come to do what he felt he had to do.

At least he would be there to pick up the pieces.

The Reverend Alden passed them. Mounting the church steps, he turned and faced the restless congregation. After a moment, he said, "I don't see Hugh McGregor. Does anyone know if he has been delayed? He did, after all, demand this meeting."

Tom Mallory rose to his feet. "He's comin'. Hugh said he had somethin' to do before the meetin', but he'd be here close on it startin'."

"Very well." The reverend looked none too pleased. "May I suggest we open with a hymn? Page twenty-nine in your songbooks. 'The Church's One Foundation'. May we pay special attention to verse four."

Hiram hid his smile. He knew verse four by heart. He imagined many of the men here did.

 _The evening sun is shining,  
The cloudy day is past;  
The time of their repining  
Is at an end at last.  
The voice of God is calling  
To unity again;  
Division walls are falling,  
With all the creeds of men._

About two-thirds of the way through the hymn, a sound at the back of the sanctuary made him turn. Hugh MacGregor was standing there, his eyes locked on the back of Charles' form.

It was seldom he had seen such hatred.

When they'd finished, the reverend closed his hymn book. "Mister MacGregor," he said, acknowledging the man's presence, "Hugh. If you would take a seat."

As MacGregor complied, sitting next to Tom Mallory and Simon Canton, Robert Alden said, "If you will bow your heads, we will seek the Lord's wisdom before we begin our meeting tonight." Then, deliberately, he looked at Charles and said, "Charles, if you would like to lead us."

You could have heard a pin drop. Silence overtook the room. Charles glanced at him and then rose shakily to his feet. He stepped up beside the reverend and boldly faced every hostile countenance in the sanctuary. Then he bowed his head.

"Father, we come before you tonight to address the grievances of a brother. May the light of your wisdom shine a path to understanding for us all. Help us, Lord, to make listenin' as important as speaking and hearin' even _more_ important. Show us the way, Lord, to peace among brothers." Charles lifted his head and opened his eyes. Hiram saw his gaze lock on Hugh MacGregor's. The Scot stood, his form rigid, his eyes open; his head unbowed. "And they all said..."

It was a weak chorus, half-hearted. Afraid.

"Amen."

"Hugh," the reverend said, "do you feel you have no need of the Lord's intervention?"

So Robert had been watching MacGregor as well.

The Scot snarled. "I'll not be bowin' my head to words spoken by that heathen-loving traitor."

The gasp was audible.

"Invective and insults will get us nowhere, Hugh," the reverend said. He turned to Charles then. "Why don't you take a seat, Charles?"

Ingalls jaw was tight. He shook his head. "No. Let him say all he has to say to my face. That's what we're here for."

MacGregor was out of his seat in a shot. He sprang forward, advancing down the aisle like a raging storm bent on Charles Ingalls' destruction.

The Reverend Alden put himself physically between them. "This is God's house, Hugh. There will be no violence here."

The Scot stopped and seemed to realize what he was doing – and how bad it made him look. He glared at Charles and then swung around to face the men in the church.

"This man," he began, pointing back at the injured man, "who calls himself _God-fearing_ , held a gun on me and on Tom and Simon there. He was gonna shoot us to save those savages that killed your kin!"

Robert stepped up. "This is God's house, Hugh. Thou shalt not lie. The Indians whom Charles helped had nothing to do with the death of your family members, or any of those here."

Hugh's jaw set and the look of hate intensified. Hiram drew in a sharp breath. He knew. Somehow, he'd learned about Little Crow.

"That true, Ingalls?" he challenged. When Charles said nothing in reply, he pointed his finger at him. "Now let's see _who's_ lyin'!"

The reverend spun. "Charles?"

Hiram rose to his feet. "Hugh," he said as calmly as he could, "Charles had no idea. He wasn't here during the war." He took a step toward the irate man. "I, however, was. _I_ knew."

"What are you talking about, Hiram?" Robert asked.

MacGregor was breathing hard. "That savage, that Little Crow, he was the one givin' orders when my boys died. It was him led that heathen horde at New Ulm! That murderin' savage that this man saved!"

"Little Crow and his people were pardoned, if you remember," Charles stated flatly. "Even without that, his people were starving. It was treaty violations by the government and lack of payment of annuities due to them that drove the Indians to strike out in the first place."

"Listen to him! Over _eight hundred_ of your fellow white men were killed and all this traitor to his kind cares about is that the Indians were starving!" MacGregor surged forward until he stood toe to toe with the reverend. "They're animals. They _deserve_ to starve!"

Charles was trembling. "Even if you think they're animals, MacGregor, you wouldn't let your horse or dog starve," he snapped back.

"My horse and dog earn their keep," Hugh spat back. "Them red savages don't do nothin' of the kind! It's our God given duty to wipe them all out!"

Robert was shaking his head. "Hugh, listen to yourself. Thou shalt _not_ kill. That's the Lord's word. There is no exception."

MacGregor's face was red as an iron in the fire. "You know your Bible, preacher. What does it say in Deuteronomy? 'Behold, it be true, and the thing certain, that such abomination is wrought in Israel. Then shalt thou bring forth that man or that woman, which have committed that wicked thing, unto thy gates, even that man or that woman, and shalt stone them with stones, till they _die."_

"You're taking God's word out of context, Hugh, and forgetting that our Lord brought a new law of love."

Hugh swung on the men in the church pews. Facing them, he shouted, "You heard him! How he twists God's words to his own purposes!"

Charles had begun to move forward. Robert tried to hold him back, but it was no use. "You're the one twisting the Lord's words to your own purposes, MacGregor. You're so full of hate that your heart is hardened and your ears stopped beyond hearing. The Doc's right, I didn't know about Little Crow. But even if I had, I would have done the same thing. No matter what his sin – _if_ he committed one – his son and daughter, and his father were innocent of any wrong – "

Hiram saw it coming but he couldn't move fast enough. Hugh lashed out, his fist striking the injured man's jaw and driving him to the ground.

The sanctuary erupted into chaos.

"I have to get Charles out of here," he said to the reverend. He saw it in Robert's eyes. Like him, he knew MacGregor would kill Ingalls given half the chance.

"Take him out the back," the minister said. "I'll see if I can talk some reason into Hugh."

"I'm afraid, Robert, that would take one of the Lord's miracles," he muttered as he knelt. "Charles, can you hear me?"

A low moan assured him he did.

He glanced at Robert as he helped the injured man to rise. "I'm going to take him to my office."

The older man nodded. "I'll come as soon as I can."

"Come on, Charles." When the stubborn man shook his head, he took hold of Charles' arm and propelled him up the steps at the front of the sanctuary. "It will do no one any good for you to end up dead at the hands of that bigot. Think of your family for God's sake, man!"

After a moment, Charles nodded and let him lead him behind the altar and out the back door of the church. As he hustled him away, Hiram looked back. He could see men moving, milling around within the sanctuary, and above it all he could hear Hugh MacGregor's voice shouting, crying out for a vengeance only the Lord had the right to take.

At that moment he wondered if the rift in their town created by Hugh MacGregor's hatred could ever truly be healed.


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

"Now you just sit there and keep still!"

Hiram Baker flinched. His voice sounded harsh in his own ears. He drew a breath, let it out in a sigh, and then said more kindly, "Really, Charles, it's a vexation to me how I am going to keep you alive long enough to see just _one_ of those girls of yours married."

Charles Ingalls, who had reopened the split in his lip, was looking a little sheepish – and a _lot_ green. He shrugged. "I don't suppose 'sorry' counts for much."

"When the implication of the word is that whoever utters it will turn away from foolishness and not do the same thing again – no, it doesn't."

The man he was tending grinned. "At least I didn't throw the first punch."

Hiram shook his head as he reached for the bottle of alcohol to clean the wound. "No, you didn't. And considering how that man pushed you, I call that was a sizeable restraint."

Charles was silent for a moment. "I don't think I have ever seen a man whose hate runs more deeply than MacGregor's."

"Hate for you or for the Indians?"

"I don't – " Charles sucked in air as the alcohol hit the cut. It took a second, then he answered. "I don't think there's any difference in Hugh's mind."

The doctor put the stopper back on the table and then sat down in the chair beside the examining bed the brown-haired man was sitting on. "What are we going to do, Charles? This is tearing the town apart."

He nodded. Then he looked directly at him. "Could _you_ have done any different, Doc? Lookin' back, I mean, to that day Little Crow came and took us out to see his sick father?"

"Knowing what I know now?"

Charles nodded.

He thought a moment. Then he shook his head. When he spoke, his tone was firm. "No. The sanctity of life is not something I am willing to compromise just because one man doesn't like the color of another man's skin."

At that moment, he heard the door to his office open. With a glance at Charles – who was in no condition to defend himself – he stepped into the outer room . A second later he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was Lars and Nels.

"What brings you two fine gentlemen here?" he asked.

Both looked worried.

"Is Charles here?" Nels inquired.

"Yes, in the back."

Lars glanced at the inner door. "Is he _vell_ enough to talk to?"

"Sure. He's on his feet. I'm just worried about that blow to the head and what being struck in the jaw may have done to his recovery." He looked from one man to the next. "Is it MacGregor?"

"In a way," the storekeeper said. "Once MacGregor and his thugs and the few who support him left the sanctuary, the rest of the men talked. Most of them support Charles"

" _Ja_. Most of them know the hot-head Hugh is." The mill owner's eyes flicked to the back room. "They don't really understand the position Charles took, but they admire him for it."

"Hey, Doc," his patient called. "Can I get off this bed?"

He rolled his eyes . What was the point?

"Slowly. It should take you about a minute to get out here."

Charles appeared shortly. He halted at the door and caught hold of the jamb with one hand. "How's thirty seconds?" he grinned.

"For you? A miracle." Hiram sighed. "Come over here and sit down before you fall down."

The brown-haired man did as asked without protest. After he took a seat, Charles looked up at Nels and Lars and said, "I heard what you said. It's good to know."

"The problem is, Charles," the storekeeper began, "most men know what's right, but they don't have the strength of character to go against the tide. The men support you, but I don't know what help that is going to be."

"Something has to be done about MacGregor," Lars said, his voice sad. "Before the man does something he – and all of us – _vill_ regret."

Charles was rising. "I need to get back to Caroline and the girls."

"I'll take you out, Charles," the doctor said as he reached for his coat. "I don't want you riding a horse. There's too much jogging and too great a chance you might fall. I'll – "

His sentence was cut off by the sound of shattering glass.

All four men turned toward the office window. The lower pane on the front window was broken out and there was a rock laying on the floor.

Lars ran to the door and opened it and looked out, while Nels went to the window. After peering through the remaining panes, the storekeeper knelt and picked up the rock. His brows knit together as he rose and turned toward them.

"There's a paper tied to it."

Hiram watched as Charles rose shakily and went to the other man. Nels surrendered the rock and the brown-haired man took it. His hand shook as he untied the twine binding the piece of paper to it. When he read its contents, Charles' color went to paste.

"What does it say?" he asked.

His friend turned terror-stricken eyes on him. He handed it over without a word.

Hiram read it with trepidation.

' _Best get home, Ingalls.'_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Caroline had gone to the window when she heard the sound of a wagon rolling into the yard. It was moving quickly and, with what the night had already brought, she feared what its arrival might entail. She glanced up at the loft as she went to the door. All three girls were bedded down above. She'd sent them up a little early and told them to do something quiet while she dealt with their unexpected guest. Glancing at the young man who was seated at the table enjoying a piece of pie like there would be no tomorrow, she couldn't help but smile. He was young, probably twenty at most, and quite handsome with his thick curly blond hair and mustache. Mary had been quite smitten.

Of course, a man in uniform could do that to a girl.

She might have even felt a twinge of appreciation herself if it hadn't been for the fact that she knew the reason for the soldier's visit. She had spoken to him outdoors before inviting the rail-thin young man in for a bite of supper.

Caroline sighed. Much as she might like to, it would do no good to shoot the messenger.

Before she reached the door it burst open and Charles stepped in, his hair and eyes wild. Seeing her, he walked over to her and pulled her in close. A second later, he asked, "Where are the girls?"

She hugged him back. His heart was beating quickly. Pulling away she reached up and touched his face. Charles' jaw was bruising and he was covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Damn fool got himself knocked in the head again," Hiram Baker announced as he removed his hat and stepped in the door.

She felt Charles stiffen. He must have seen Lieutenant Robinson.

The young soldier put down his fork, daubed his lips with his napkin, and rose to his feet. His head dipped quickly and efficiently.

"Mister Charles Ingalls, I presume?"

Charles pushed her behind him. "Yes."

The soldier moved out from behind the table. He reached into the satchel that hung from the back of another chair and produced a letter.

"I have a summons here, sir, for you to appear at Fort Snelling the first of next week."

Charles frowned. "What for?"

The young man looked almost apologetic. "There's been a citizen complaint, Mister Ingalls, concerning your interactions with Little Crow's people."

The soldier's name was John Robinson. He'd talked to her a little while he ate. The soldiers at the fort knew Hugh MacGregor was a troublemaker. They'd had dealings with him before. He'd told her that, since Hugh had been military once upon a time, it was impossible to ignore his demands no matter how outlandish they were.

Charles took the envelope and held it. He stared at it a moment and then looked at the young man. "What's the complaint?"

"It's issued against you and another citizen of Walnut Grove. It states that you did willfully and with intent violate the law of the land in aiding a group of savages with their passage through Minnesota, and that you undertook illegal action in stopping a group of citizens from detaining and holding them until the authorities could arrive."

Doctor Baker was staring at the young man. "Who's the other defendant named?"

"That's confidential, sir," John stated flatly.

"It wouldn't happen to be a Doctor Hiram Baker, would it?" the blond man asked with a wry smile.

The soldier looked surprised. "Yes, sir. It is."

He held out his hand. "Well, then, hand it over."

"You're Doctor Baker?"

"The same."

As he fetched and handed over the second summons to the doctor, Lieutenant Robinson said, "It's probably just a matter of formality, Mister Ingalls. These kinds of things have happened before. So far as helping the Indians out of the state, the government will frown upon it, but its unlikely they'll take action since the Indians in question are gone and that's dozens of less mouths to feed. It's..." He paused. "Well, its the charge of holding a gun on Captain MacGregor that will be harder to overcome."

"Hugh would have killed the Indians if I hadn't stood up to him," Charles said. "Not only the men, but the women and children."

"That _would_ be against regulations, sir. The government doesn't hold with wholesale murder. I'm sure once you have explained everything to the commander at the fort there won't be – "

"He's not going."

Caroline glanced at the doctor. She knew that look. Nothing short of dynamite could move Hiram Baker once he had that look on his face.

"Sir?" John asked.

"I'm this man's physician and he is not well enough to travel nearly one hundred and fifty miles. Hugh MacGregor had him beaten savagely. Almost killed him. And then tonight..." She saw the doctor's eyes stray to her. "He struck him again, hard enough to cause more damage."

"Oh, Charles!"

Charles shook his head – and then looked like he regretted it. "I can't go," he said, "but not because of what MacGregor did to me. He's threatened my family."

"How 'threatened', sir?"

Charles reached into his pocket and held out a piece of paper. As the lieutenant took it, he said, "This came through the Doc's office window tonight while I was there."

The soldier's face paled. "A direct threat from MacGregor, you believe?"

"As direct as they get," Hiram sighed.

She'd known something was wrong when the wagon had flown into the yard. "Charles?" she asked, her voice robbed of strength by a growing fear. "Do you think he'd hurt the girls?"

The doctor answered for him. "I think Hugh would do just about anything, Caroline. There's nothing left in this life for him but hate, sad to say. I imagine his wife and son are hurting for it."

Lieutenant Robinson looked from one of them to the other. He seemed sympathetic. "I can take a letter back to the camp commander telling him that Mister Ingalls is incapable of answering the summons at this time and you can see if you can get a stay." His eyes went to Hiram. "You, sir – "

"Need to come." The blond man smiled. "I understand, son. You're only doing your duty." Hiram sighed. "It seems the good people of Walnut Grove will have to get by without my services for a while longer..."

The soldier glanced at Charles. "Are you needed here?"

Without hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, I am."

John frowned. "I can leave the summons, sir, and report back that I couldn't find you to deliver it in person. That will buy you some extra time."

"But that's not the truth," Caroline said, rather too quickly.

He looked pained. "No, Ma'am. But I can see you are good people and I have...personal acquaintance with Mister MacGregor. You see, my brother was married to an Indian woman. She died in the Dakota War. MacGregor's sons killed her." He scowled. "It's part of the reason I volunteered to bring the summons to you."

"Good God!" Hiram exclaimed.

"Everyone went crazy after New Ulm," John said sadly. "There was no difference made between peaceful settlers or Indians and the ones who had done the killing. The MacGregor boys came upon my brother's house. Sweet Grass was home alone. They..." He paused and anger crinkled the skin at the edges of his pale blue eyes. "Well, they didn't only kill her."

Caroline could hear the words from the Good Book. _'Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and to the fourth generation.'_

Charles had tears in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice trembling.

"Thank you, sir, and thank _you_ , ma'am," John Robinson said as he went to the door and retrieved his hat from a peg, "for supper _and_ the delicious pie. I've been eating trail dust for days and it tasted mighty good."

She nodded. "Take care on your journey back, John."

"Will do, Ma'am." He turned then and looked at Charles and Hiram. "Tomorrow morning, go to the post office and send a reply saying you'll come in a couple of weeks. That should take care of things for now."

"Thank you again," Hiram said.

John smiled and then disappeared out the door.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As Charles eased his bruised body onto the bed that night he thought he had never before felt anything so close to Heaven. Caroline was finishing changing into her nightclothes after having completed a few chores in the kitchen. They had invited Hiram to stay for the night, deciding it simply wasn't safe for him to travel home alone. He was bedded down in the small room Carrie normally occupied. Nels and Lars intended to call another meeting the next day with the men of the town – without MacGregor and his cronies – to form a plan to deal with the man and what he was doing to their community. They'd driven the Gallenders out, but then the threat of the bully boys had been tangible. Hugh's was more a whisper in the dark. Other than the beating he had taken, there was really nothing that could be pinned on the man, and a beating wasn't enough reason to ban someone from their home. Besides, Hugh's wife and son had done nothing wrong, even if it seemed Rob had been visited with the same generational sin as his two deceased elder brothers.

As he lay there, he thought about what his wife had said to him just before they retired. He'd been railing about what an evil man Hugh MacGregor was and how he deserved to be cast into the fires of Hell. Caroline grew very quiet and then she had shown him the passage of scripture she'd been led to that evening during devotions. It was from the book of John. It read - _'But he that hateth his brother is in darkness, and walketh in darkness, and knoweth not whither he goeth, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes.'_ He'd looked at her with outrage first and then, with understanding. She wasn't reprimanding him.

She was _reminding_ him.

Oh, Caroline was good and angry at the Scot too. But God had led his beautiful wife to words that convicted her. God reminded _her_ that Hugh was a wounded man who had lost his children during the war – the girl in a brutal way – and showed her that somewhere deep down inside the angry man there was a fellow soul that needed to be rescued. She'd finished by saying that Hugh MacGregor was so filled with hate that he was blind, and she warned him – Charles smiled – that he _too_ could become blind if he let his own heart grow hard against the man.

His wife was at the side of the bed now, praying, probably asking for Hugh _and_ him.

A moment later she slipped into bed beside him. Placing a hand on his chest, she asked, "How are you, Charles? Are you in pain?"

Translated that meant, _'Is it all right if I snuggle up against you?'_

He reached out with his arm and drew her in. "I've been worse."

"When?" she asked with a little laugh.

He'd come close to dying the year before, when Laura knocked his rifle over and the gun went off and the bullet went straight through him. But he wasn't going to bring that up – not ever.

"Oh, I think that time you socked me in the nose when I got a little too friendly while we were courtin'," he said, all serious.

"I never 'socked' you in the nose," she laughed.

"Oh. Well. My nose remembers it different."

Caroline snorted. "I might have batted it...really hard."

He laughed and then – he couldn't help it – let out a little moan.

"Oh, Charles! I'm sorry."

"For what? For makin' me laugh?" He leaned over and planted a kiss on her nose. "It's the only reason I keep you around."

She sighed and snuggled in closer. "You're incorrigible."

He puzzled that one over for a moment. "Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Look it up," she murmured as she began to drift toward sleep.

He'd just have to do that.

Considering the situation, he had a feeling it was the former and not the latter.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Laura climbed down out of the loft early in the morning, being careful not to wake her parents. It was still dark outside and even Ma wasn't up, so she figured it was probably something like four o'clock. She could hear her parents' breathing. Ma's was all even like she was peaceful. Pa sounded like he was having a little trouble. One of the things grown-ups always talked about when someone was hurt was the possibility of that funny thing – pneumonia. She'd asked miss Beadle once why the 'P' was there when no one needed it.

Her teacher told her it was there to drive little girls crazy.

With a sigh, Laura landed on the floor. They'd been sent up so early to bed that her stomach was growling and keeping her awake. She just knew she couldn't wait for breakfast. With a quick glance at her parents' bedroom, she tip-toed into the kitchen and opened up the larder and took out a jar of jam and what was left of a loaf of bread. She supposed that handsome soldier had eaten the other half. He sure had been pretty with that head of golden hair. It had been thick as Pa's! And his eyes had been blue as the sky. When she first saw him, she'd been afraid. They didn't see soldiers too often and the only ones she could remember were the ones who had come to throw them off their land in Kansas. She'd listened at the top of the ladder for a while as he talked to ma. He was there to take Pa away for something Mister MacGregor had accused him of. Boy, she sure hated that man! He was nothing but trouble – and mean too! He ma told her hate was wrong, but then Pa said there were times too when a man was wrong and there was nothing to it but call a spade a spade.

Ma didn't hear that. It was probably a good thing.

Sitting down at the table, she quietly and carefully opened the jam and dipped her finger in it and then spread it on a slice of bread. She thought a knife might be too noisy, so she used her finger though she knew Ma would take a wooden spoon to her backside if she found out. As she munched on the bread she thought about what the soldier had said after Pa and Doc Baker came home. She'd been listening then too. It sounded like the soldier was going to tell his boss at the fort that Pa couldn't come right away.

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to go at all.

Finishing up her bread and jam, she took the leftovers to the cupboard and put them on the shelf and closed the door. Then she turned and looked at the ladder. She had a powerful need to go to the outhouse, but she knew Ma had told her not to go out alone – at least not until everything was settled with Mister MacGregor. Turning toward the door, she considered what she should do. If she opened it and Bandit was sleeping outside on the porch, she could take him with her and then she wouldn't _be_ alone. Walking over, she took hold of the latch and lifted it and stepped outside.

It was a cold wet morning. Mist hung over the land and fields, making it almost impossible to see. The men who had been working the fields for pa were done, so there was no one to be seen for miles. Mister Garvey had been in Sleepy Eye for a day or so. He'd sent word by the reverend that he'd be over to check on them later in the day since no one else was around. She looked forward to seeing him. She liked Mister Garvey. He wasn't funny and crazy like Mister Edwards, who she missed every day, but he was, like ma said, 'solid'.

Solid was good.

Turning to her right she found Bandit asleep in his usual place. Laura reached down and touched the dog's head. As he shifted and rose, lifting his hind end first, she said, "Come on, Bandit. I need to go to the outhouse and Ma told me not to go alone. That means you get elected!"

The dog growled and whimpered. She petted his back and then started walking toward the privy. Bandit trailed behind her, sniffing the air, turning this way and that like he was trying to figure something out.

Laura stopped where she was, at the outhouse door. "What is it, boy? You smellin' a wolf or somethin'?"

Bandit began to growl.

The little girl frowned. She turned in a circle, but saw nothing. "What are you worried about, boy? Ain't nothin'..."

A shadow eclipsed her and she looked up into an angry, heavily jowled face. Mister MacGregor loomed over her and when Bandit growled again, struck out with his foot and kicked the dog senseless.

"Bandit!" she cried just before a hand closed over her mouth and she was lifted up into the air.

"Before I go," the wicked man breathed in her ear, 'I got somethin' to leave for your Pa."

Laura watched as an envelope floated to the ground. Mister MacGregor kicked a stone on top of it.

"Don't worry, child, you'll be seein' your Pa soon," the Scottish man hissed near her ear. " _Real_ soon..."

As she was carried off, Laura began to cry. She wanted to see her pa more than anything else _and_ she didn't.

Because she didn't want him to die.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Charles woke to the sound of his wife's even breathing. Caroline was worn out, what with all her daily chores and taking care of him _and_ the girls. No matter what the Doc said, he had to get back to carrying his share of the load. It was going on two weeks he'd been off his feet and that just wouldn't do.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Charles rose and reached for his shirt. Taking it and his pants, he moved to the kitchen where he sat at the table and pulled them on. His body ached less than it had, but his head still felt – well, all he could call it was 'funny'. Sort of like it was full of the same fog he could see outside the window. Standing, he attached his suspenders and pulled them over his shoulders and then headed for the door only to stop. It was partially open.

If he'd been looking into the eyes of a grizzly, he couldn't have been more scared.

Still barefoot, Charles went to the door. Opening it wide, he stepped outside. The first thing he noticed was that Bandit was not in his usual spot on the porch keeping guard. He glanced out and around, finally turning toward the outhouse. What he saw there made his heart nearly stop.

Something was lying next to it.

He ran as fast as he could and dropped to the ground, both horrified and relieved to find it was Bandit. Passing his hands over the dog, he didn't find any injuries until he came to his head.

Charles let out a low, long whistle.

"Looks like you ran into the same train I did, boy," he said softly.

Then it hit him.

Bandit _had_ been hit by the same train.

One named Hugh MacGregor.

Rising, he spun in a circle, his eyes searching the trees and the underbrush for a sign of the man. Infuriated, he took a step forward and then stopped when he felt his foot hit something other than dirt. Looking down he saw a rectangular piece of white paper. When he knelt to pick it up, he realized it was an envelope.

Addressed to him.

His hands shaking, Charles tore it open and read.

' _If the soldiers ain't gonna make it right, I am. I got your girl. Tell anyone and she's dead. Meet me at midnight at the bend in the river southwest of town. Come alone.'_

His heart pounding in his chest, he looked to the house.

 _Which_ girl?

At that moment the door to the house opened wider and Caroline stepped outside. He thought about hiding the envelope behind his back, but there would be no hiding the fact that one of the girls was gone as soon as it was discovered. Instead he stood there, waiting, as she walked toward him. Bandit had roused and was laying on the ground behind him whimpering.

He could see it. She knew something was wrong.

"Charles?" She looked at the envelope in his hand. "What's that?" When he said nothing, all the color drained from her face. Panic entered her voice. "Charles?"

Doctor Baker had followed her out of the house. He was watching the two of them.

"Caroline, I need you to be brave," he said softly.

"Dear God! What has that horrible man done?" she asked, quickly forgetting, it seemed, all that the scripture had said about Hugh being 'good' somewhere deep inside.

"Ma?"

Charles had taken his wife's hand. Mary was standing on the stoop holding Carrie. He held it tightly as their two remaining daughters advanced toward them.

"I can't find Laura anywhere," Mary said. "Do you know where she is?"

Yes.

Yes, he did.

In the hands of a madman.


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

Laura was cold. And scared.

And mad.

She bit her lip to keep from saying anything. Every time she did Mister MacGregor got red in the face and looked like he wanted to hit her. So far he hadn't. All he'd done was tie up her hands and feet and that was 'cause she tried to get away. After taking her from the outhouse, he'd carried her kicking and shouting into the woods. Once there he'd sat her on the ground and told her he had other men watching her house and if she didn't shut up he'd tell them to do something to one of her sisters. She thought he was lying, but she couldn't be sure, so she'd shut her mouth and let him lead her away from the house, watching out the whole way for a time when she could escape. It came when they were about halfway to the river. He stumbled stepping over a tree root and she shot away from him quick as a jack rabbit. Unfortunately, he must have known a back way because when she came out of the woods where she'd been hiding, he was there. Using words that would have got _her_ mouth cleaned out with soap, he caught her up off the ground and carried her to an old fallen tree trunk, sat her down, and tied her hands behind her back. Then he held onto her and made her walk the rest of the way to the river where he tied her feet too. He warned her if she made so much as a peep, he'd gag her again. After tying a rope to her bound feet and then anchoring it to a fallen tree, he moved a little ways away and started to pace just like Bandit did when he was upset about something, growling and muttering.

The young girl frowned as she watched him. She couldn't understand why it was so all-fired important for him to hate people he'd never met, or why he hated Pa so much for _not_ hating them. Seemed to her like Mister MacGregor was just making himself miserable and that seemed like an awful waste of energy. It was funny. In a way it made her think of Spotted Eagle. He'd been _just_ as mad at people he didn't know, just because they were white. The Indian boy had hated her when she had nothing to do with his mother's death.

Laura shook her head. Seems like people just liked to hate one another.

She looked up to find Mister MacGregor staring at her. He walked over fast and pulled on the ropes on her hands and feet like he was checking to make sure they were still tight. She sighed. They were tight enough. The ones on her ankles were bothering her, though the ones holding her hands had a little slack. Laura's light brown eyes followed the man who had taken her as he began to pace again. She thought she might be able to get her hands free if he stayed away long enough. And if her hands were free, she could free her feet pretty fast. She wasn't sure why he'd taken her, but she _was_ sure it had something to do with Pa and how he'd called Mister MacGregor a coward. He probably wanted to make Pa do something and he knew taking her would make Pa come.

So she _had_ to get away.

Leaning back against the rock she was sitting in front of, Laura began to search for a sharp edge.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I have to go alone to meet him, Caroline. You know that."

His wife was staring at him, open-mouthed, dumbfounded; eyes wide open and terrified.

"Charles, you can't!" She whirled on Doctor Baker. "Tell him he can't take on that wicked man alone!"

The doctor shook his head. "I wouldn't advise it. Like I said before, Charles, you're not up to full speed. Let me come along."

He shook his curly head. "No. No, I can't risk it."

"But you _can_ risk that man laying in wait for you," Caroline protested. "You know Hugh would have shot you before. He almost beat you to death. Charles, he means to kill you!"

Thank goodness he'd sent the girls outside to do chores. Caroline was close to hysterical and was speaking her mind loud and clear. He went to his wife and took her in his arms and pulled her close. Placing his hand on her hair, he sought to soothe her. "Darlin', you're the one who always says we have to trust. I won't _be_ alone. God will be goin' with me. He's not gonna let anythin' happen to Half-pint."

She drew back. "What about _you?"_

Charles shrugged. "I'm countin' on Him to keep me safe too."

"At least let me follow behind, Charles," the doctor implored. "Caroline's right. You know the only reason MacGregor has done this is so he can get you alone somewhere – with no witnesses. Since his bid to have the army arrest you failed him, he's grown desperate. He intends to take matters into his own hands."

Charles kissed his wife on the top of her head and then released her. Walking to the door he looked out toward the barn where Mary and Carrie were tending to the animals. After a second, he turned back to the pair. "Hugh took the one thing he knew I would follow after no matter what. He had a girl he lost. Hugh's a father." He paused. "When push comes to shove, I'm countin' on that for him to make the right decision."

Doctor Baker exchanged glances with Caroline and then joined him. "Charles, if Hugh were a rational man, I would agree with you. But from everything I've seen, he's a man on the edge of nervous prostration. You can't expect him to think like you do."

"And I can't risk Laura's life by ignoring his warnings. If he's irrational, that's all the _more_ reason I have to go alone!" He drew a breath and fought to keep his temper in check. "It's not what I want, but if it comes down to Laura or me, I'm ready to die."

Charles heard a small sound behind him. He closed his eyes and then pivoted to see Mary running back to the barn. Carrie was looking up at him, with no comprehension of what he had just said in her eyes. He sent his youngest to her mother, shook his head when she started to say something, and then followed his eldest child out into the advancing night.

Upon reaching the barn he pushed the door open and stepped inside. When he looked, he couldn't find Mary. It didn't take long though to hear her softly crying. Following the pitiful sound, he found her sitting on the floor of one of the back stalls in the midst of mud and straw and more.

Kneeling beside her, he touched her pale blonde hair. She stiffened under his hand and then threw her arms around him and latched on like a drowning man taking a hand and holding on for dear life.

"Oh, Pa..." she sobbed.

Scooting down with his back to the stall wall, Charles stifled a groan as his body protested and then shifted so he held her in his arms. Softly, he soothed her. "Shh. Mary, shh. I'm not goin' out into the woods lookin' to get killed. I'll do everything I can in my power to come back home to you and your sisters and your Ma."

"But you can't promise!"she almost shouted, lifting her head and meeting his green eyes with her intense blue ones. "You can't promise me you won't _die!"_

He ran a hand along her cheek, wiping away tears. "Mary, I can't promise you when I walk out of the house in the mornin' to work with the plow that the ox won't run away with me, or maybe trample me. I can't tell you for sure when I climb up on the roof to fix it, that I won't fall off and break my neck." He moved his hand to her hair. "There's nothin' for sure in this life other than God."

Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed with pain. "Why does God let things like this happen, Pa? Why would He let that _wicked_ man take Laura?"

He stifled a sigh. "I don't know that I've got a better answer to that question than your first one, other than to say that, since Adam and Eve broke the rules, we've all been payin'."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"Well, that may be if you look at it from this angle. But God looks at it from another one." He paused. "You remember when I told you girls not to go pickin' flowers at the river's edge?"

She nodded.

"You and Laura were mighty upset."

"The flowers there are so pretty, Pa."

"They are. Do you know why I told you not to pick them?"

"No, Pa. You didn't explain. You just said it was for our good and that we should listen to you because you knew better."

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "And I thank you for listenin'. The reason I told you not to is that the current is mighty swift there right now. If you lost your balance and fell in, there would be no saving you. Also, there's an old cave there that the bears like to sleep in. There's no knowin' when it's occupied."

"So how come you didn't tell us?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"A couple of reasons. One, you need to obey me whether you understand or not. And two, because you need to learn to have faith."

She was silent a moment. "So God's like that? He doesn't tell us everything so we learn to trust Him and have faith?"

"Yes. And don't think 'cause your Ma and me are all grown up that we aren't still learnin' to trust and obey too." He touched her cheek, wiping away another tear. "And that's what I'm doing by goin' after your sister alone. Being obedient to my duties as your Pa and trustin' in the Lord to see me through."

Mary was silent a moment. "It's awful hard, Pa."

"All things worth havin' are worth workin' for. God knows that and He allows these things to come into our lives to make us stronger." He touched Mary's face and waited for her to look at him. "Like I need for you to be now."

She blinked. "How come?"

"I need you to be strong for your ma. It's gonna be mighty hard on her when I walk out that door. I need you to be there for her. Can you do that?"

It took a second, but she nodded. "Yes, Pa. I can do that. You go find Laura and bring her home."

She was becoming quite a woman.

Charles leaned in and kissed his girl on the cheek. He stood, hesitating for a moment as he found his balance, and then held out his hand. Helping her to rise, he looped his arm around Mary's shoulders and, together, they went back inside.

Fifteen minutes later, leaving his tearful wife behind, Charles headed for the river and their missing child.

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Laura stopped what she was doing and held her breath as Mister MacGregor came back her way. She had the ropes on her wrists loosened. Even though she couldn't wriggle her hands through yet, she didn't think it would be long. She glanced up. The moon was high in the sky. While they were walking to this place Mister MacGregor kept muttering something about midnight. She figured that was getting close and maybe it was the time he had told Pa to come and meet him. If Pa arrived before she was free, he'd do anything that mean old man told him to so he could keep her safe.

She had to escape before he got here!

The big man with the jowly face and little piggy eyes looked down at her. "It's nearly midnight, girl, do you know what that means?"

She shook her head, pretending she didn't. "No, sir."

"Sir. Sir?" He held a hand to his head. "Did your Ma teach you to be so polite, even to a man what snatched you from your own?"

"My _Pa_ , sir," she said defiantly. "Pa tells us to have respect for everyone and to treat everyone the same – no matter _how_ mean they are."

"You got his mouth, I grant you that," he growled.

Laura scowled. She knew it was stupid, but she _had_ to ask, "How come you hate him so much? What's Pa done to you?"

"What...what?!" he sputtered. "He helped them filthy stinkin' Injuns get away! He would have shot me and mine to protect them. He thinks more of those Injuns then he thinks of you and your ma and sisters!"

"Shows what you know!" she smarted back. "Pa was right worried about us, but he wasn't gonna let that stop him from keepin' you from murderin' Little Crow and his family!"

"Ain't an Injun alive don't deserve to die," he snarled, wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve.

"That's what Spotted Wolf thought about you and the men with you. You deserve to die just 'cause your _white!_ You killed his ma!"

He seemed a little surprised. A moment later he sputtered, "I did no such thing, girl. I didn't kill no women."

"And Little Crow didn't either. I heard Pa and Doc Baker talking. It was war. Little Crow was a commander, just like Colonel Sibley. His side lost. If they hadn't, he'd be huntin' _you_ down!"

MacGregor raised his hands to his ears. "Shut up, girl!"

"I ain't gonna shut up," she shouted back. "It's the truth!"

The big man raised his hand and she braced for it to hit her. About two seconds later he dropped his hand and turned away.

Laura was breathing hard. She was right mad, but even more than that, she was happy.

She'd made him so mad he hadn't checked her hands.

And they were free!

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Charles heard Laura's voice as he approached the bend of the river. It was raised defiantly. Even though he couldn't make out the words, he could imagine his brave-spirited girl telling Hugh MacGregor what she thought of him and what he had done. The idea of it brought a quick smile to his lips. It fled quickly, however, as he considered Hiram's warning that Hugh was rapidly becoming unhinged. He had no idea if the man was so far gone that he would take his anger out on a child, but he wasn't about to wait long enough to find out.

Listening again, he got the bead on her direction and began to run.

'Hold on, Half-pint,' he said aloud. 'Pa's comin'!'

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Laura watched Mister MacGregor walk away. He started pacing again, talking to himself – even arguing with himself – and walking in circles. She waited until his back was turned and then reached down and began to work on the knot that held the rope around her ankles. It was tight, but she was able to loosen it just enough that she thought she could get free. When he turned her way again she stopped and then, as soon as his back was to her, began again. It took about five rounds of his walking, but finally she had the ropes pulled away enough she could wriggle her bare feet through.

Drawing a breath, she watched Mister MacGregor turn toward her again and then, as soon as his back was to her, Laura stood up and ran for all she was worth.

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A deep, incensed bellow of anger brought Charles to a halt. He stopped, his heart pounding. He hadn't heard Laura again and that terrified him. If MacGregor had become enraged, he might have struck her...or worse. Closing his eyes, he uttered a quick prayer and began to run again.

Less than a minute later the brown-haired man broke through the trees.

It was just in time to see Hugh MacGregor run into the underbrush and hear him scream his child's name.

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Laura didn't look back, she just ran for all she was worth. The trouble was, she had to run away from the house and toward the river. She was just about at that place Pa had warned her and Mary to stay away from – the one where the bend straightened out that had all the pretty flowers. She didn't know why he didn't' want them going there, but she hoped he'd understand. Real close to the flowers was a long skinny tree than had fallen over the water. It reached almost to the other side and some of the kids used it as a bridge. Because of what Pa said, she hadn't ever tried it.

She was gonna try it now.

Mister MacGregor was a big man and he was crashing through the trees behind her kind of like a bull, not paying much mind to what he was doing. Maybe he'd be afraid to go out on the narrow tree trunk. Or maybe he'd fall in and that would slow him down enough she could get away. Either way, if she could make it to the other side and then head back and get to one of the houses over there, she was sure someone would take her home and then Pa wouldn't have to worry about rescuing her and could look out for himself.

Glancing behind, Laura could just see the man who had taken her breaking through the trees. He was maybe a minute behind her. She stopped at the end of the tree trunk and looked at it and then at the raging water that ran beneath it. It was going awful fast.

Still, she didn't have a lot of choices.

Drawing a deep breath, the little girl gathered her courage and her skirts in hand and stepped out onto the rough uneven bark and started across.

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Charles was breathing hard. His head was pounding and his body ached like he'd been beaten about an hour back instead of nearly two weeks. He paused to catch his breath and then propelled himself forward again passing through the trees and coming up just behind Hugh MacGregor who was standing at the edge of the river looking at the trunk that had fallen last summer and bridged it. When Charles did the same, his heart nearly stopped.

Laura was halfway across.

"Laura!" he shouted as his eyes went to the raging water coursing beneath the natural bridge. "Laura, stay where you are!"

Hugh MacGregor whirled. "Ingalls!"

"Your fight's with me, MacGregor! Not with my child!" Charles moved forward. "Leave her be. I'm here now!"

The angry man looked at him and then turned back to the bridge. "Them Injuns didn't let my girl be. I ain't gonna let yours be either!"

With that he put a foot up on the tree trunk.

Charles watched it shift beneath his weight.

As terrified as he was to have her try it, he called out to Laura. "Half-pint, get across as fast as you can! Forget what I said earlier. Be careful, but run! Laura, run!"

He saw her hesitate for just a second, but then as MacGregor took several shaky steps and worked his way toward her, she nodded and began to move.

"Please God," Charles said between panting breaths, " _please_ God, let her make it across safely."

Hugh was near the middle, but Laura was almost at the end. He saw her stop.

"Pa, there's no tree for about three feet!"

 _God, please..._

"Jump, Half-pint! Jump!"

MacGregor was almost on her. He saw her look back – her little face tear-streaked but determined – and then, she jumped.

Charles almost melted with relief when she landed on solid ground on the other side.

Hugh had come close to the end by that time. He bellowed as he looked at the fast rushing water. Charles put a foot up on the tree, determined to stop him if he tried to jump and land where Laura was.

Then, unexpectedly, Hugh MacGregor teetered. He lost his footing and fell into the rushing water. At the last second the beefy man managed to catch hold of the stump of a broken-off branch and clung to it, his eyes wild with fear.

"Help me, Ingalls!" he called. "Help me! I can't swim!"

Time froze.

Charles thought of all the harm this man had caused to their town, of all the grief he had brought to his family and the threats he had made against Caroline and the girls. He remembered Hugh's willingness to drag his and Doctor Baker's names through the mud, to turn their friends against them in order to ruin and destroy them, of his insane hatred for, and willingness to kill innocent Indian women and children.

Of the fact that he had kidnapped and threatened his daughter.

And then he saw her. Laura. Standing on the other side of the river, staring at him, and he knew the decision he made at that moment had to be, not for him, but for _her_ and the future of her soul.

As time began again he shouted, "Hang on, Hugh!"

A second later he was walking out onto the precarious bridge.

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Robert Alden was a tired man. For some reason sleep eluded him. He had felt compelled to rise and go to the church. He was sitting in the sanctuary now praying. His heart was heavy. As he called upon the Lord one name kept coming back to him. Charles. Charles Ingalls.

Charles was in danger.

He couldn't be sure from who or what, but it stood to reason it had to do with Hugh MacGregor. Hard as it was, he included the angry selfish man in prayers as well.

"Open Hugh's eyes, Lord, to the man he has become. Open his ears to Your voice. He was once a man of God, Father, before grief and loss turned him into what he is now. Restore him to his family, Lord. Rob needs a guiding hand. Katherine needs a husband. I lift Hugh up, Lord, and I ask you to speak to his heart and keep him from doing something he will regret for the rest of his days. And Charles, Lord, Charles is a good man, a faithful man – a child you love." The reverend's voice broke.

"Protect him."

He had no sooner said the words then he heard a sound and turned to find Caroline Ingalls standing at the back of the church. Mary was at her side and Carrie in her arms, fast asleep. The blonde woman's face was streaked with tears.

"I...I didn't know where else to go," she said, her voice breaking.

It was as if his fears had taken on material shape.

He hastened over to her. "Dear child, what's happened?"

Caroline drew a ragged breath. "Hugh MacGregor took Laura. Charles has gone to get her...alone."

He looked from one grieving woman to the other. Gently he laid one hand on Mary's shoulder and with the other took hold of Caroline's free one.

"Come. Sit down. Tell me."

He sat stunned, listening to the tale of how Laura had been snatched from under the nose of her protector pup and out of the arms of her parents. It did not surprise him to hear that Charles, with no thought to his own safety, had obeyed Hugh's instructions and gone to rescue her alone. It was foolish but brave and exactly what he would have expected him to do. After Charles left, Doctor Baker had driven them into town. Caroline had asked to be left at the church so she could pray, never expecting to find him awake and there. The doctor said he was going to check in to see if there were any messages for him. He'd been away from his practice for days. She was to wait until he came back to fetch her.

"The Lord woke me," he said at last. "I have been praying for Charles for over an hour now." He paused. "And for Hugh."

The blonde woman's jaw tightened. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I tried. I simply _can't_ pray for that man."

His eyes went to Mary and to Carrie, who was sleeping on the pew. As they returned to the stricken woman, he quoted quietly, "And I say, 'You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.'"

She swallowed hard. "He wants to... _kill_ Charles. How _can_ I pray for him?"

"As one sinner prays for another. Caroline, we all fall short. Hugh's soul is precious to the Lord as well. He doesn't want to see him lost."

She blinked back tears. "I don't know..."

The reverend met Mary's eyes. They were filled with tears and fastened on her mother. "Mary," he said softly.

"Yes, Reverend?"

"Will you lead us in prayer?"

The young girl looked at him, and then nodded solemnly and bowed her head.

"Dear God, please take care of Laura and Pa. Please bring them home safely. And Lord," she halted and licked her lips, "deep down inside Mister MacGregor, there has to be some good. Please talk to him, God, and remind him. Please give him a new heart in the place of his stony one. Give him a heart of flesh so he can feel again. Amen."

The reverend had his eyes closed. He opened them now, full of tears. "Well said, child. Amen indeed."

Caroline's red-rimmed eyes were trained on her daughter. They were still full of fear, but also pride and gratitude. Catching Mary in her arms, she hugged her close and looked over her child's shoulder at him.

'Thank you," she mouthed.

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"Pa! Pa! Be careful!"

Charles heard his daughter shouting at him from the far bank. He turned to look at her and gave her a quick forced smile before turning back to the man dangling in the fast rushing water. Hugh looked like he was weakening.

"Hold on! I have to move out a little more to catch hold!" he yelled.

Even as he did what he said, Charles blinked. A wave of nausea had overcome him as he looked at the rippling waves. His head was pounding and his throat was dry; his balance, at best, precarious. As carefully as he could – sure to make certain of his footing – he moved his feet until they were balanced on the edge of the tree bridge and then knelt down and held out his hand.

"MacGregor! Now! Take hold!"

When the beefy man complied, Hugh's added weight almost tipped him over. Fortunately, there was a branch protruding vertically from the tree's hide near his knee and he was able to grip it to steady himself.

"Come on, man! Work with me! I can't haul you up by myself!"

The water was like a hand gripping MacGregor's bulky form. It sought to drag him away as Charles fought to draw him up.

"That's it! Keep at it!"

Charles' arm was aching. It felt like MacGregor might just pull it off. He closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the throbbing pain in his head, but it didn't do any good. A slight smile curled his lips when he thought of what Doc Baker would have to say if he could see him now.

"You're almost there! Come on!"

"Come on, Mister MacGregor," Laura called from the sidelines. "You can do it!"

His sweet little child. Cheering on her kidnapper.

"Almost...there..."

Charles gave one last haul and MacGregor's body came out of the water. He landed chest first on the tree branch and laid there for a moment stunned. Charles nodded at him and then indicated the far bank. "Can you get over to where Laura is?"

Hugh MacGregor was looking at him strangely. For a moment he thought the man was going to strike out and knock him in. Then, the sodden Scot slowly worked his way to his knees and began to crawl toward the end of the tree that straddled the river.

Charles stood with his hand on the extended branch, watching as the other man made his way to safety, his own head swimming like a man caught in the water that rushed below. He looked and saw MacGregor make it to the shore. The big man dropped where he was and lay there stunned. Laura turned from MacGregor and looked at him. A smile broke over her face and then she took a step toward the tree bridge.

"You stay where you are, Half-pint. I'm comin' to you," he called.

Or he would have been if he hadn't lost his balance.

Seconds later, Charles Ingalls was fighting for his life.


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

As Hiram Baker made his way through the trees he considered the repercussions of his choices, debating whether or not he should have made the one he had. It might cause hard feelings and ill will, but then nothing said those _he_ cared for had to love, or even like him. Still, in the end, it was really the only thing he could have done. His patient needed him. It could be a matter of life and death.

Knowing Charles, it probably was.

He'd driven Caroline into town and left her and the two remaining Ingalls' girls at the church in the reverend's care. Thank God the Lord had seen fit to rouse Robert from sleep and send him there. After that he drove his buggy to his office and beyond it, heading for the bend in the river that Hugh MacGregor had set up as a rendezvous.

He just couldn't leave Charles alone to face that man, especially not now with his friend being under par. Ingalls was a stubborn man and nothing would stop him from sacrificing himself for his child if it came to it. But _he_ was stubborn too, and he wasn't going to stand by and let a good man die if there was something he could do about it.

He'd left the buggy on the road and headed into the woods some ten minutes before. He wasn't entirely sure of the lay of the land, but he knew where the river bent and that was where he was headed. He was counting on God to get the direction right and bring him to his destination in time to prevent...well...to prevent anything bad happening.

The moon was riding high and its beams lit the forest floor making travel – if not easy – then easier than some nights. He was hampered a bit by his medical bag, but he hadn't been about to leave it behind. If nothing else, Charles was going to be exhausted when he found him. The man's strength was legendary, but even a strong man could only hold on so long when the forces that opposed him were constant and wearing.

Hiram shifted a branch aside and moved past it. As he did, he heard the rush of the river flowing and above it a shrill young voice screaming.

"Pa! Pa! No!"

Struck numb and galvanized at the same moment, Hiram Baker began to run.

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She was shouting at her pa and Pa was shouting back.

"Laura, no! Stay back!" He drew a breath and shifted his uncertain grip on the tree limb. "The current's too strong! You can't swim it!"

"But, Pa!"

"That's...an order."

Laura gasped as her Pa's head went under water. She didn't know what to do. She held her breath until she saw him, but she could tell he was getting weaker. His hand slipped and then caught hold again as he went partially under.

Frantic, she turned on Hugh MacGregor who was lying on the shore at her side. She gripped the man's hand and started pulling and shouting at him. "Mister MacGregor, please! You gotta help my pa! He's gonna drown! Mister MacGregor!"

He looked at her, but he didn't see her. The beefy man just kept shaking his head and muttering under his breath. "Fool. Fool. Fool..."

"Mister MacGregor, please!"

As she pulled on him, she looked back at her pa. For a minute she couldn't find him. Then she realized he must have slipped. Pa's head was just coming up again. He was further out from the tree where the branch he was hanging onto narrowed. It sure enough looked like it would break.

"Pa! I'm comin' out!" she called.

" _No!"_ Pa's teeth were chattering and his words were growing faint. "No, Laura...no. Sweetheart...no." He paused and his voice grew all kind of hollow. "You tell...your mother...I love her. Your sisters...too."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She fell to her knees, unable to stand anymore.

She was going to watch her father die.

"Pa...no..."

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Hiram heard the plaintive cry as he stepped out of the trees. In an instant he saw what had happened. Tossing his medical bag to the ground he recklessly mounted and traveled the length of the tree bridge and then knelt and thrust out his hand.

"Charles! Take my hand!." When Ingalls didn't respond, he added some fire to his voice. "Charles! For God's sake, man, _fight!"_

A pair of green eyes, utterly weary focused on him. "Can't..."

"Yes, you can, man! Are you going to let that little girl watch you _die?!"_

From somewhere within, Charles summoned strength. He reached up and his hand closed around his wrist. Hiram started to pull, but the force of the water was too great. It clung to Charles like honey on a stick.

"You have to help me, Charles," he grunted, pulling for all he was worth. "I'm...not...strong...enough..."

Charles grip didn't grow stronger. It slipped.

"Tired..."

"Charles, no!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks. It couldn't end this way, God. No! "Charles, help me...please..."

His friend's curly brown hair was plastered to his face, which was pale as death. Charles met his eyes and shook his head and then started to let go.

As Laura screamed, Hiram felt the tree beneath his feet jog. He thought for a moment the force of the water had broken it loose but then, as another hand came alongside his own, he realized someone had joined him.

To his surprise it was Hugh MacGregor.

Hugh bent over and caught Charles other arm just as the drowning man's fingers released the branch. For a moment they stood there, suspended in time, holding the nearly spent man just above the raging waters and then, a minute later, they were all safe on the shore.

Hiram's head was spinning. Laura was beside him leaning over her pa and saying his name over and over and over again. Charles was unconscious. He was pale and his breathing was labored. He was going to need tending. Hugh MacGregor...

Hugh was sitting on the edge of the river, his head in his hands, sobbing like a child.

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Caroline Ingalls woke stiff and sore, laying on one of the church pews. The Reverend Alden must have covered her up with a blanket when she fell asleep a few hours before. They'd come to the church around midnight and though Mary and Carrie had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion before the sun had appeared in the sky, she had watched it come up and wondered if this day would see her without a husband or a child.

Or maybe both.

She had thought she was all cried out, but the memory of the events she had gone to sleep to brought tears anew and they ran down her cheeks unchecked. She knew when Charles had taken a stand for the Indians, there would be a price to pay.

She hadn't realized the price of freedom for Little Crow and his people would be so high.

"Caroline," the Reverend Alden said softly as he appeared, "I've brought you some coffee." Before she could refuse, he pushed the cup into her hands. "I've also brought a little bread and cheese. You need to keep your strength up for your children."

For her children. Not her husband.

Did she still _have_ a husband?

A sob escaped her.

"Oh, Caroline, don't despair. God is good. Don't sell Him short. He has heard our prayers and will be faithful to answer them."

She nodded, unable to find words. She believed God honored prayers and had a plan for her and her children, a plan for their good.

She could only pray it included their father.

A sound at the back of the sanctuary made her turn. She was surprised to see Johnathan Garvey standing to one side near the back. For a moment she thought he had merely come to see the minister. But there was something in his eyes. Something...

She thought it might be guilt.

"Johnathan, what's wrong?" she asked as she moved toward him.

His jaw was tight. "I should have been here. I'm sorry I had to go away, Caroline. If I'd been watchin' the house that man wouldn't have taken Laura, and Charles wouldn't have had to go after her."

There was something about the way he said it. Caroline drew a deep breath. "Do you know something?"

He nodded. His face, as it often was, was unreadable.

"Is it about Charles?" she squeaked. "Is he..."

"I was out at your place. I came there as soon as I got into town. Doctor Baker's with him."

"Then he's alive!" she breathed in relief. "Is Laura with them?"

He nodded. "She's fine, but she's awful worried about her Pa. You see, Hugh MacGregor fell in the river. Charles got him out and then _he_ fell in. The Doc's worried about his lungs. He took in a lot of water." Johnathan paused. "Doc Baker sent me in to fetch you and the girls."

Her mind was reeling. If the doctor wanted the girls brought out, did that mean he thought their father might not make it – that they should see him _in case?_

"Hugh MacGregor's there too," the big man said.

"What?"

The Reverend Alden came up beside her. He placed a hand on her arm. "Hugh is at the Ingalls' house."

Johnathan met her angry gaze. "If not for Hugh, Charles would have drowned."

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Laura was sitting by her pa. He was laying in his bed and she had her hand on his chest. He looked just like Ellen had when they'd pulled her out of the water. His lips were kind of blue and he was struggling to breathe. Doctor Baker said he had that funny 'P' word, the one they'd been worried about before. His skin was cold and damp to the touch and he was burning up with fever. She shook her head. He sure had been through it these last few weeks and all on account of that Mister MacGregor who was sitting in their barn now. When Doctor Baker laid pa on the shore, Mister MacGregor had gone off and sat down and started crying. He'd been crying still when they brought Pa back to the house in Doctor Baker's buggy and was probably still crying out in the barn. She didn't really know why and she didn't really care. If he'd of had his way her pa would have been dead.

Still, it puzzled her that the big man had helped save him.

A noise caught her attention and she rose to her feet and went to the end of the hall that led to the kitchen. What she saw brought tears to _her_ eyes.

"Ma! Ma!"

When her ma saw her, she started crying too. It seemed there were enough tears around their house to fill that river that had almost taken her pa away. Doctor Baker had patted her on the head and told her how proud he was of her for being so strong. She didn't feel strong now. She felt like a little baby and all she wanted to do was fall into her mother's arms.

Ma knew. She knelt and opened them wide.

Sobbing, Laura flew into them.

"Hush," her mother said as she caressed her brown hair. "Shh. It's over now."

She shook her head. "No, it ain't, Ma. Pa... He's..."

"In God's hands," her mother said. "He's brought him this far. God will see him through."

Laura blinked. She looked into her ma's eyes.

She meant it.

Her mother touched her face, wiping away some of the tears. "Have you been looking after your Pa?" she asked.

She nodded. "Best I can, Ma."

Rising, the older woman held out her hand. "You take me to him. Okay?" She turned to Mary who was standing by the door holding Carrie's hand. "I'll send Laura out in a minute and then you can come in. All right?"

"Sure thing, Ma. I'll take care of Carrie."

Laura exchanged a glance with her sister. Mary was as scared as she was.

She was just too old to admit it.

As they reached the end of the hallway, Laura heard her mother draw in a deep breath. She gave a little gasp when she saw pa lying there all quiet-like, and then she crossed over and sat by his side. Laura watched as her mother's hand touched her father's face and then, without saying a word, Ma leaned over and rested her head on his chest.

Feeling kind of in the way, Laura backed into the passage. Halfway down it she ran into Doctor Baker. He smiled at her. "Your sister's starting to boil water. We need to get steam into the room where your pa is in order to break up that congestion. You'll find some Eucalyptus oil in my bag. Have Mary add a tablespoon or two of that to the water." As she nodded and started to move past him, he caught her arm and added, "Your mother said you had some flax seed in the barn. We'll add that to a little honey and make a tea for your pa to sip as soon as he's able. Will you go out and get that for me?"

She swallowed hard. "In the barn?"

He frowned. "Is that a problem?"

She glanced that way, thinking of Mister McGregor sitting out there sobbing like a kid with a skinned knee. She turned back with a frown. "No, sir."

"Good. Get the seeds and then let me know when Mary has the oiled water ready. I'm going to go check on your Pa."

Laura left the hall behind and went into the common room. Once there, she stood looking at the door. Drawing a deep breath, she headed for it. She just wouldn't talk to him, that was all. She'd go in the barn and get the seeds and get out as quick as she could and _not_ talk to Mister MacGregor.

After all, she had nothing to say to the man who'd tried to hurt her pa.

Laura was surprised when she stepped outside to find the Reverend Alden's buckboard parked out front. She looked around but didn't see the minister. Since she figured he'd come to see how pa was doing, that seemed strange. As she started walking toward the barn she heard voices. They were coming from inside. One of them was the Reverend Alden's.

The other one _had_ to be Mister MacGregor.

Curious, the young girl hopped the fence and went over and stood by the door into the corral and listened even though she knew she shouldn't.

Mister MacGregor's voice was shaking. He was talking loud like he was mad.

"Don't you go tellin' me there's any hope!" he declared, using his hand to make a chopping motion and emphasize his words. "I'll just pack up me and mine and be gone in the morning!"

"Hugh," the reverend said in his quiet and always patient voice, "there's no need for that. The people of Walnut Grove are understanding _and_ forgiving. We are all sinners and fall short of the grace of – "

"I don't want no platitudes either!" The big man paused. When he spoke again, his voice was softer and it shook. "There ain't no forgiveness for what I done. I... I almost _killed_ that man in there. I would have and with my _bare_ hands given half a chance. I blamed him..." Mister MacGregor drew in a big gulp of air. "I blamed him for everything I lost. I had to blame someone. Don't you see?"

"I see that you were hurting, Hugh, and that in order to stop that pain – instead of reaching out to those who would have helped you – you hardened your heart nearly to the point of no return."

"You see! _That's_ what I'm sayin'! There's no goin' _back_ for me. Ain't no one goin' to forgive me." He halted again. "Least ways God."

"I said 'nearly', Hugh. There is no such thing as too late with God. Not if you come to Him with a contrite heart."

The big man sat heavily on the hay bale she'd shared with her pa so many times. It made her kind of mad. Laura chewed her lip and drew a deep breath and held it against that anger.

And continued listening.

"A contrite heart," the beefy man said, shaking his head sorrowfully. "How do you know if you got one of those, preacher?"

The Revered Alden crossed over to him. "Do you regret your actions of the last few weeks?"

His dark head nodded.

"And you no longer have any ill will against Charles and his family."

"Good Lord, no." It came out as a sob.

There was a moment of silence. "What about the Indians?"

She watched Mister MacGregor stiffen. His jaw grew tight. "They killed my boys and did worse to my girl." He shook his head. "I don't know that I can."

The Reverend Alden sat beside him. "Maybe this will help. Forgiving does not mean forgetting. Oh, we can try to be as God and forget, but it doesn't really happen. A wise man said to me once that, if a man's horse steps on your foot and crushes it, you can forgive the man – even forgive the horse – but your foot is still broken." He placed a hand on the big man's shoulder. "There are consequences to our actions. The Indians did wrong. So did the whites. I understand that your sons were not entirely blameless."

Mister MacGregor's eyes started leaking again. A strangled, 'No', escaped his throat.

"Did you know this before the soldier came here?"

He must be talking about that handsome Lieutenant Robinson.

The big man shook his head. "No." He drew another breath. "No. When I found out, well, that was what started me thinking I might be wrong. But, still, I couldn't stop. I took that little girl from her family! I was gonna kill her pa..."

"But you _didn't._ And when Charles was in need, you came to his aid." The Reverend Alden smiled. "I think, if there _is_ one for you, that is a sure sign of a contrite heart."

Mister MacGregor was silent a long time. Finally, he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Ingalls is a better man than me."

"I would agree in some ways," the minister said. "At least at the moment. But Hugh, Charles is a sinner as we are all sinners. The ground at the foot of the cross is even. All of us fall short. All we can do – all _you_ can do – is try. Try to become a better man."

The beefy man nodded. Then he rose to his feet. "I still don't think I can do it here. I'll go home to Katherine and Rob, tell them what's happened, and we'll pack up and make our way west – "

"Mister MacGregor?"

Laura had opened the corral door and was standing inside the barn.

The Reverend Alden turned to her and extended a hand. "Why don't you come and join us, Laura?"

She looked at the beefy man standing by the minister and fought off a shudder of fear. He'd snatched her away and used her to bring her pa into the woods. He was going to kill him. And if pa hadn't come, well, he'd threatened to kill her.

But she'd made big mistakes before and her Ma always said that if she was sorry, she and pa would forgive her.

That God would forgive her.

Crossing over to Mister MacGregor she stood in front of him and looked up. His face looked different. It was just about the saddest face she'd ever seen. She thought about him and how he'd lost three children to the Indians, and how Rob had lost two brothers and a sister. She thought about how angry she would have been if the Indians had come in and killed Mary and Carrie and maybe her ma or pa. Would she have been any different? She hoped so.

But then, she hadn't had to live it so she didn't know.

Laura reached up and took the big man's hand in her own. She waited until he met her eyes and then, after taking in a little gulp of air, she said, "I forgive you."

It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Mister MacGregor's eyes started flowing like that river again.

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Caroline Ingalls left the bedroom she shared with her husband. As she walked she shoved the hair out of her eyes and fanned herself with her hand. The room was stifling. Doctor Baker had a half-dozen open pots and buckets in the room filled with boiling hot water tinged with eucalyptus. The scent of it was heady and she felt all but overcome. Still, it seemed to be breaking up the congestion in Charles' chest. He'd been coughing, poor man, so hard he was just plan worn out. The doctor was still in with him, taking his vitals and listening with endless patience to his lungs. His fever was still high.

He was not out of danger yet.

Walking to the door, the blonde woman opened it and looked out. The day had come and almost gone. The dying sun's fingers were stretched across the land. They brushed the changing trees, turning their leaves to copper and gold. With one hand on the door, she looked back into the house. Mary was in Carrie's room, reading to her sister. Charles and Hiram Baker were in their room, of course. She hadn't seen Laura for some time and was afraid the child was upset about her pa. After the incident on the mountain when they had gone hunting and Laura had seen Charles shot, she had – at too young an age – become painfully aware of the fragility of life.

What had happened with Mister MacGregor could only reinforce that fear.

Stepping outside she looked around for her child. It was only then she realized the Reverend Alden's buckboard was outside. Leaving the house, she headed for it, wondering how long the rig had been parked there. As she came around the side of the rig, she heard the sound of someone chopping firewood. Puzzled, Caroline skirted the reverend's vehicle and headed for the side of the barn.

What she found there stopped her cold.

The minister was there, with Laura. They were toting firewood and stacking it in cords up against the barn. And there, holding Charles' axe, was Hugh MacGregor.

Hugh MacGregor. Splitting _their_ wood.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped before she could think better of it. "Put that down!"

Robert Alden put a hand to Hugh's arm and said a few low words, and then he walked toward her. "Good evening, Caroline. How is Charles doing?"

Her eyes were on the man who had taken her child and _nearly_ killed her husband. "He's fighting. The doctor says we won't know until tomorrow morning at the earliest." Her eyes flicked to Laura. Her daughter had stopped and was staring at her, her arms full of kindling. Again, the child was too young to hear such things, but it seemed life had a habit of thrusting them upon her. "Hiram thinks he'll have a full recovery." Her gaze went to Hugh MacGregor who was standing, staring at her, the axe held loosely in his hand. "No thanks to some here."

The reverend opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Laura dropped her load and came to stand before her. She glanced at the man who had taken her and then looked back. Reaching out, she took her mother's hand.

"Ma, Mister MacGregor's real sorry. He told me so."

That did nothing to dispel her anger or indignation. "Did he?" she asked, her tone curt.

"Hugh very much regrets his actions and his words, Caroline," the reverend said softly. "So much so that he asked if there were any tasks he could perform around the farm to help Charles' until he recovers." The minister smiled. "We thought we would start with the wood. Winter is coming and there will be plenty of need of it."

"We don't need his help," she said, her jaw tight. What was the reverend thinking?

"Ma?"

She looked down at her child – her precious child _this_ man had put in danger. "Yes? What is it?"

Laura swallowed over something. Was it fear of _her?_

"I got to thinkin', Ma, about somethin' you told me. It's in the Bible."

Caroline looked down. "What did I tell you?"

"You told me and Mary that if we forgave others their trespasses against us, then God would forgive us the ones we made. And that if we didn't, well then, God didn't have to forgive us if He didn't want to." Her child's nose wrinkled and her little brown brows knit together in the middle. "Were you tellin' us the truth, Ma?"

Caroline's gaze returned to the man holding the axe. "Yes," she said quietly, "I was tellin' you the truth."

"Mister MacGregor's real sorry, Ma. He was just so mad on account of what happened to his family. He said he was so darn mad," she glanced at the reverend who was smiling tolerantly, "that he was so _darn_ mad he couldn't see straight. He thought if all the Indians were dead, he would feel better somehow. But he knows now that it wouldn't make no difference. You can't bring back somebody's who's with Jesus." Laura smiled. "They wouldn't _want_ to come back anyhow."

Hugh MacGregor laid the axe down on the chopping block and came toward her. He took off his hat and held it in his hands. "I ain't askin' for forgiveness from you, Mrs. Ingalls. There ain't no reason you should give it to me. I'm just..." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm just askin' that you let me make some of it up to you somehow. Maybe by doin' chores until that husband of yours is back on his feet." The beefy man paled. "Your husband, Ma'am, well, he's only in the fix he's in because he saved _me_ from drowning." He paused again. "Why would he do that?" he asked, truly puzzled.

She drew in a deep steadying breath. "Because he's Charles," she said with a shake of her head.

"He's a better man than me, Ma'am," the big man said. "I thank God He saved him."

Her eyes went to the reverend. "From what I understand, you had a hand in saving Charles, Hugh. You could have let him drown."

"He wouldn't have been in danger if it wasn't for me – "

"Nevertheless." She reached out and touched his arm. When he looked at her, she managed a weak smile. "Seems to me like you are well on the way to becoming a better man."


	9. Chapter 9

EPILOGUE

Charles was off his feet for another two weeks. To the exclusion of his own farm and work, Hugh MacGregor continued to come to their house daily to do her husband's chores. When the men of the town saw how the Scot was trying to make up for all he had done, they came out and leant him a hand during the day and then returned with him late in the afternoon to his own home to take care of what was wanting there. So far he had not spoken to Charles.

Oh, it wasn't that Charles was unwilling. Quite the contrary. No one rejoiced more over a soul restored than Charles Ingalls.

It was Hugh who would not look or come Charles' way.

Her husband was sitting up in a chair for a few hours at a time now. The fever and chills were gone as was any threat from the pneumonia. He was, though, still weak from days of confinement. The night before Doctor Baker had come out to check on him and pronounced him well enough to go outside and sit for a spell. They were into October now and the nights were growing cold, so he warned her to bundle him up well. During the time Charles had been in bed – through the long nights at his side listening to him struggle to breathe – she had knitted him a warm woolen vest to wear under his coat.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed putting it on now.

A moment later Charles appeared at the end of the corridor into the kitchen. Much as she had wanted to be by his side to hold him up, she had recognized his need to be independent – to feel as if he was on the road to recovery and it wouldn't be too long before he could return to work and begin to provide for them again.

"How do you feel?" she asked as she crossed over to where he stood, one shoulder propped against the wall.

"Like I took the hundred mile walk again," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Maybe you shouldn't go outside. Maybe it's too much, Charles. If it –"

A finger to her lips silenced her. He leaned forward and kissed her and then took her in his arms.

Oh, how she had missed it!

Reaching down he touched the vest she had made him. "Now I know what a sheep feels like in the middle of the winter," he said, his smile there but weak.

"Only the sheep is the one who will be shivering now," she laughed.

He laughed too.

Caroline drew a breath. "Well, are you ready for your great adventure?"

His eyes went to the door. There was a longing in his gaze.

"Can't wait."

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Laura watched her ma and pa step out of the house. She was in the barn tending to the feed for the animals. Putting her bucket down, she crossed over to where Mister MacGregor was working. He'd stayed late tonight, saying it was getting colder and they needed to have enough wood laid in for the winter. Sometimes she thought he just wanted to be here. Like being here made everything 'right' somehow.

Laura pursed her lips. It wasn't ever gonna be all right until Mister MacGregor talked to Pa.

She waited until the big man had tossed the piece of split firewood on the pile and then said, "Pa's outside. You oughta go talk to him." When he said nothing, she added, "He isn't mad at you, you know?"

He nodded. "I know."

"Then how come you won't talk to him?"

He sat heavily on a nearby bale of hay and said, "Maybe because he _isn't_ mad at me. Or maybe, I... I'm just ashamed."

She sat beside him. "I know _all_ about that," she offered.

He'd come to smile a bit in the last few days. His eyes didn't look so piggy when he did. In fact, they looked right nice. "Do you now?"

"I sure do. I've done a lot of dumb things in my life."

The older man snorted. "Me too."

"You know what Pa told me about that?"

The smile vanished. "No. Why don't you tell me?"

"He says shame is the first step to humility and that God loves a humble man." She smiled. "Or girl."

The big man nodded. "Your father is very wise."

"He's right smart. But then, you're smart too. And brave."

He looked at her with surprise. "Me?"

She nodded. "You coulda run away and hid, but here you are, helping us out. Ain't too many people old as you that you can teach new things."

"You mean I'm an old dog that's learned new tricks?"

Laura laughed. "It's not nice to call someone an old dog."

He laughed too. "I don't mind."

"Hugh."

Laura looked up at the same time Mister MacGregor did. Her pa was standing in the open door. Ma was still outside the house, sitting on the stump she and pa had made their own. Laura went over to his side and caught him around the middle and gave him a squeeze. Pa sure was skinny. Mrs. Garvey had come to visit that morning with jars of jam and two big dried cherry pies and told him she'd never seen a man so rail-thin and he had to eat all of them by himself.

Pa leaned down and kissed her head. Dipping his head lower, he said, "Half-pint, I need you to leave me and Mister MacGregor alone."

"Are you gonna talk, Pa?" she asked.

He looked at the other man and said it loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah, we're gonna talk."

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Charles lowered himself onto the hay bale Hugh MacGregor had deserted. The big man had returned to the wood pile and was busying himself stacking what he had cut.

"Hugh, will you stop workin' and look at me?" he asked with a sigh.

The other man froze in what he was doing. "Why would you want to talk to me, Ingalls? I done nothin' but wrong by you and yours," he said without looking at him.

"That's right, you did," Charles said, acknowledging the man's actions and not making light of them. "But you've also spent the last two weeks tryin' to make things right." He paused. "And that's not even mentionin' that you saved my life."

"Doc Baker saved you."

A slow grin lifted his lips. "So now you're callin the Doc a liar?"

Hugh whirled. "What do you mean?"

"The Doc said he _couldn't_ save me. He wasn't strong enough. If you hadn't come along and given him a hand, I'd be dead now." Charles eyes went to Laura and her mother where they sat out front of the house, looking up at the stars. "And my daughter would have seen me die."

"She wouldn't have been there if I hadn't taken her in the first place – "

Charles rose to his feet and went to the other man. "You know, Hugh, we've all got plenty to beat ourselves up about. Ain't none of us perfect."

"You never tried to kill a man!"

He cocked his head and smiled. "I sure enough wanted to kill _you_." At his look he added, "You had me mad as a wet hornet out there on the plains. Remember, I was holding a gun and it was pointed at _you_."

"But you didn't kill me."

Charles opened his arms wide. "Here I am. You didn't kill me either."

"But, I..." he sputtered. "I _really_ would have."

"You don't know that, Hugh, no more than I know what I would have done if Little Crow's people hadn't got clean away or the army hadn't backed down."

That brought a frown to the other man's face. "I sent word to the fort. I withdrew my complaint against you and Doctor Baker."

He nodded. "That's a good thing, 'cause I don't think I want to be doin' any traveling any time soon."

The other man was silent for so long it became uncomfortable.

"What are you thinkin'?" Charles asked.

A little light crept into the other man's eyes – it was almost a smile. "I was thinkin' that two men who wanted to kill each other but didn't, maybe ought to become friends."

Charles stepped up to the other man. He looked at him and saw not an enemy, but a fellow man who had been pushed to the brink, one who had lost more than he could take and who had struck out to try to take away the pain.

Were any of them very different?

Charles held out his hand.

"I was thinkin' the same thing."


End file.
